Dysfunctional Hearts
by streamedwords
Summary: Continuation to Just A Step Ahead. All you need is love -- plus lots and lots of liquor. Cain and Ambrose need to learn to live, love and let go. Slash ahoy!
1. Chapter 1

Continuation fic from Just A Step Ahead. I need to write smaller fanfics if I want to post all this on FF.

For my other works, check out my LF -- streamedwords or streamofwords(for the smut!)

This is a work-in-progress. Reviews are lovely, so I know if I am going in the right direction.

* * *

It began on a Sunday.

At first, they all found it innocent enough, a mere project that would involve some planning, some decisions, and the inevitable conclusion: in this case, DG and Jeb's wedding. They would pass by the study, checking in, watching the ever-growing stacks of tomes on the history, traditions and decorum of weddings, then laugh and go about their business. What harm was there in letting him become so absorbed in such a thing as planning out a wedding?

Then the other things began to happen, the frightening things, which made them start to avoid checking in. Nay, it even made them avoid the _corridor_ altogether, out of fear that sharp ears might detect the sound of a step outside of the door. When that happened, the unlucky individual would get swooped upon, dragged into that room of certain doom, held against their will for hours at a time as he picked at their minds, mercilessly thorough. It was nearly impossible to escape!

Some were more fortunate than others. Cain had learned to sidestep the expected attack, always managing to avoid being dragged in. He had already offered to teach the others his methods, though it was difficult to plan anything in advance given the high chance that they would get yanked into that room where even Cain feared to tread. The tin man often considered busting in to rescue whoever was the victim at the time, but decided that it wasn't worth the risk.

It was commonly agreed upon that rabid papays had nothing on Ambrose the Wedding Planner.

"What do you think of this bit of ribbon? #18345, 'Princess Pink'."

"Um..." Jeb blinked, eyes darting around nervously. He was still trying to figure out how he'd ended up here. "It's.. pretty?"

"Prettier than #1729, 'Ozma Orange'?" Dark eyes demanded his input. "What about #381, 'Quadling Muave'?"

"I.. well..." Jeb's eyes wildly searched the enormous pile of ribbon pieces that were piled up on the table in front of him, unable to recall exactly what those colors looked like. "Purple is nice.."

"Hm.." Ambrose considered it, then shook his head. "No, no. It will look horrendous, clash with all the flowers. I mean, we can't have the ribbons clashing with the flowers, can we?" He reached into the pile, tossing a slip of ribbon over his shoulder to land amongst the other discarded bits.

DG and Azkadellia stepped into the room that moment, blinking cautiously. They'd been searching for Jeb, and had saved this place for last to locate him. The girls saw who else was in the study with the younger Cain, eyes widening as they tried to depart without notice.

Pale fingers snatched hold of their wrists, as DG and Azkadellia found themselves being planted in two of the empty chairs at the table, Ambrose saying absently, "Ahh, the other half of the happy couple. And sister! This is perfect. We were just selecting ribbon colors for the flowers. Tell me, what do you think of this one? #9284, 'Poppy Yellow'?"

"How can this many colors of ribbon possibly exist?" DG gasped, eyes rising up the pile.

Azkadellia sighed, squirming in her chair to get comfortable, resigned to the fact that this was going to take awhile. "Ambrose -- why are you deciding on the colors of the ribbons? Does it really matter what colors the ribbons around the flowers are, so long as the flowers are wrapped?"

The advisor looked at the former sorceress as though she'd sprouted a second head, blinking. "..Matter?" He scoffed, eyes swinging around. "Oh, it is very important, I assure you. What would the guests think, if everything else was flawlessly coordinated, only to look at the bouquets and see that just any old ribbon color had been used? Disaster!"

Jeb and DG looked at each other helplessly, hands stretching to clasp. At least they could keep each other company in misery. The girl groaned, "Ambrose, this is getting silly. I know that you want everything to be perfect, but I'm not too worried about what the guests think about the ribbons around my flowers, okay?"

That made Ambrose stare over at her with that blank face of his, indicating that his brain was not going to let her words compute. DG relented with a sigh, shoulders sagging defeatedly. They all eventually submitted. "The yellow one is cool, yeah."

"So, should I put it in the 'Yes' pile, the 'Maybe-Probably' pile, or the 'Maybe' pile?"

"Um... 'Maybe-Probably'?"

Nodding, Ambrose tossed the yellow ribbon into one of the piles which had already been sorted. With his attention distracted for the moment, Azkadellia knew it was the only time for them to make a move in the hopes of escaping. As the advisor twisted, the woman's hand shot out, bumping into the piles of ribbons, scattering them to the floor. She gasped, feigning innocence. "Oh, how clumsy of me! My deepest apologies Ambrose."

"No matter, Princess, no matter." Ambrose looked a little paler now, eyes lowering to those mixed piles on the floor. He slid out of his chair, kneeling to begin picking up the slips of fabric. "Give me just a minute to get these all up. We should be able to sort them all quickly enough, now that you three are here to help me."

Straightening up with strips of ribbon hanging from his fingers, the advisor blinked at the table, only to find it deserted. "...Hello?"

* * *

"You need to do something about him, Cain!" DG said desperately, where their trio of escapees had set up camp in the tin man's quarters. They kept an eye trained on the door, in case Ambrose decided to come hunting them down.

The law man chuckled quietly. "You were the ones who asked him to plan your wedding for you. I might have warned you what you'd be getting into, had you thought to ask me prior."

"There must be something you can do, Father." Jeb murmured, his arm tightening around DG. "While I appreciate that Mister Ambrose is trying so hard to make everything perfect, it's just going to end up driving us crazy before the wedding even happens."

"At this rate, we're going to move to a remote village and shack up." DG drawled.

Azkadellia gasped at that. "DG! How inappropriate!"

The younger princess shrugged. Considering how much they lived in dread these days, it was an idea that had merit. She peered at Cain. "Will you at least talk to him? Or find something to distract him?"

Cain sighed. "I can try, DG, but I don't -- wait." He shushed them all with a gesture, cocking an ear towards the door. Then the law man was waving to them urgently. "Hide!"

They scrambled immediately, knowing that Cain's signal meant that the threat was approaching the door. DG and Jeb threw themselves underneath the bed, while Azkadellia made a mad dash behind the drapes hanging on Cain's windows. They tensed themselves, breath held, while Cain turned towards the door, trying to look as casual as possible.

There was only one knock on the door, before the beast let itself in without waiting for permission. That dire figure slinked swiftly into the room, fingers curled into claws as it continued the hunt for its escaped victims. Ambrose perched himself up on the thick footboard of Cain's bed, like some sizeable bird of prey, what looked to be a dart gun loaded with a tranquilizer clutched in one hand. Dark eyes intently searched the room, before cocking in Cain's direction, voice sweet as poisoned candy. "Hello, Wyatt. Have you seen any sign of Jeb, DG or Azkadellia around these parts?"

"No, sweetheart, can't say that I have." He lied, shaking his head. His head tilted to the side, watching as Ambrose scanned the room again despite his denial. "Ah, Ambrose? Didn't we have that talk just last week about you walking around the palace while armed?"

Ambrose's face fell into a hurt expression, raising the dart gun as he said in his defense, "I redesigned these, Cain, I promise. They'll only cause temporary paralysis -- not like last time."

Cain shook his head as he stepped over to the bed, holding out his hand for the weapon. Ambrose scowled, pouted, then reluctantly handed the dart gun over to the tin man. Unloading it, he murmured, "Why don't you and I go for a walk, sweetheart? It's a beautiful night tonight. You've been shutting yourself away in that study for days on end. Come on."

"The idea is appealing." The advisor's lips pursed together, thoughtful. "I suppose I can put the ribbons off until later."

"We have some time alone together to catch up on." Cain said, offering his empty hand to Ambrose.

The advisor slipped his hand into the one Cain extended to him, climbing down off the bed, that predatory manner having vanished with a subtle smile. "Okay, tin man, you've convinced me. Let's go."

* * *

"Mister Cain, there is a task that I wish to appoint to you." The Queen said politely from where she sat on her throne, smiling down to the tin man who stood before her with his hat clutched in his hands. "It is of the utmost importance. You'll be performing a great service to this kingdom, should you agree to undertake it."

"Anything, Highness." Cain answered automatically, nodding to the monarch.

She sighed faintly. "On behalf of my daughter, DG, I have to ask that you please take dear Ambrose on a vacation away from the palace, and clear of all wedding plans."

The tin man blinked. "Well, that'll be easy. I'll just ask Ambrose where he'd like to go and we can head off. Jeb can run things with the military in my absence."

"There might be one problem, though, Mister Cain.." The Queen warned him.

"Which is...?"

"Ambrose has always been firmly against taking any sort of holiday for himself. It will take quite an effort on your part in order to convince him to change his stance on the matter, I think."

Cain chuckled quietly. "It shouldn't be too hard, Majesty. I'll go to him right away and let him know the plan. Don't worry." With a short bow, he turned from the throne, placing his hat back on his head as he walked out of the throne room, intent on finding the advisor.

* * *

"No."

"But, why?" Cain gaped at the advisor's back as Ambrose moved around his laboratory.

The man's work table, normally coated in schematics, was currently overtaken by large opened books with displays of cakes on their pages. Several of them had been marked for later review. Ambrose reclaimed his seat after their normal exchange of a greeting kiss, turning a page. "I'm busy here, Cain. How can I get anything done if I am running off on holiday? Lazy people take holidays -- that's what my grandfather always used to say. Never took a day off in his life."

"Well, you're not your grandfather, and in my opinion, you're overdue." The tin man took his usual spot on the stool opposite of Ambrose's, blue eyes dismissively flickering to the books before focusing back on the other man's face. "Think of it as a deserved reward for everything that happened to you. No one would fault you if you wanted to take a little time for yourself."

Ambrose's response was a noncommital noise, as he judged a triple-layer cake before flipping another page. Cain tried again. "And.. um.. I mean, the Queen herself gave permission for you to take some time off."

"That was awfully thoughtful of her." Ambrose smiled to himself. "But it is unneccessary. Having the honored privilege of being the individual assigned to plan out her precious daughter's wedding is reward enough for me."

This wasn't working. Cain frowned down at the tabletop. He was going to have to try some other tactic. Appealing to the man on behalf of his own well-being wasn't delivering results. But perhaps if he could convince Ambrose that he himself needed the break...? "Well, I was thinking about taking a small vacation, myself."

"Really?" Ambrose fired a surprised look his way. "But... you're as bad a workaholic as I am, Cain."

"That's true.." Cain couldn't argue that point. "Though I have been toying with the idea. I mean, as soon as I got out of the suit, it's been nothing but adventure after adventure since then. It would be nice to take some time, without all that excitement taking place, and just enjoy some peace and quiet." He was surprised to find that, the more he said about it, the more it sunk in that the idea did actually sound pretty good to him. An opportunity to take a break and just enjoy living for a little while? Cain had to admit that it sounded heavenly. "I guess I was hoping that you might come with me. Just the two of us."

"Wyatt Cain, are you asking me to run away with you?" Ambrose teased, grinning crookedly.

"I guess I am." Cain had to smile upon seeing that grin. "So, will you?"

Ambrose leaned forward, balancing his weight with a hand on the table, in order to give Cain a proper kiss. As he eased back, studying the law man's face, he murmured with a nod. "Okay. Only because you asked, and I am frankly under the impression that you are in dire need of some personal time for soul-searching." He nodded sagely at his own line of logic. "When do we leave?"

"The sooner that you can pack, the better." Cain answered, pushing up to stand.

He noticed that Ambrose had him fixed with that sly look, the advisor's mouth quirking. "Maybe you should escort me to my quarters, and help me with the task? To make it go quickly and all."

"I'd love to." Cain grinned, finding that also to be a heavenly idea.

* * *

Cain dropped his pack beside him, so great was his disbelief. He stood outside the front of the palace, placing both hands on his hips as he glared at the ridiculous cluster of luggage that was piled there. "Oh, you've got to be kidding..."

"I'm about ready, Wyatt!" Ambrose called cheerfully, as the advisor hurried down the steps to join him. His wool coat was a shade darker than Cain's, cinched around his waist. He was in the middle of pulling on a pair of matching gray gloves that looked expensive, blinking owlishly at the tin man from behind his glasses. "What's wrong?"

"Is that what you're planning to take on the trip?" Cain asked him in a taut voice.

Ambrose's head turned towards the pile, before he laughed. "Don't be silly, Cain."

Cain began to relax, then winced when the advisor added, merrily, "The servants should be bringing the rest down here shortly."

"Ambrose..." He took hold of the man by the shoulders, those brown eyes peering up at him curiously. "We're not taking all of this stuff. We are going on vacation -- not moving in. How do you intend on carrying half of these things?"

"Well... that's what I have you for, obviously."

Cain shook his head. "You'll be fine taking just a couple of these cases. Pick what you're going to bring and have the servants put the rest back."

"But, Cain...!" Ambrose started to argue.

The tin man waved him to silence, picking his own small pack up off the ground. "I am giving you ten minutes to find what you're taking, and stuff it into two cases. If you're not ready by that time, then I am leaving without you."

Ambrose stomped, eyes glaring. "I hate this 'vacation' thing already. Fine! I'll sort it down to two cases only." The advisor stalked away towards the pile, grumbling under his breath.

Cain started to wonder if this might turn out to be a bad idea after all.

* * *

Ambrose's foul mood showed no signs of leaving, the advisor glaring out the window of the car which had been loaned by the palace to carry them to the gates of Central City. He kept both of his luggage cases on the seat on either side of him, hugging them tightly to his sides, as if fearing that Cain was suddenly going to change his mind and demand that he abandon those, too. At one point, Cain shook his head, asking mildly, "Are you okay, Ambrose?"

"_We_ are fine." The advisor answered tersely, clutching at the luggage as if they were actual people and not simply cargo.

Cain huffed in irritation, turning his own gaze out the window. He thought about telling the driver to turn around and take them back, but knew that it would be a blow to his pride if he retreated now. People were counting on him. So the law man settled for silence, watching as Central City went rushing by. He'd just let Ambrose continue to pout, if that's what the advisor wanted to do.

Once they were dropped off at the gates, Cain turned towards the other man, an eyebrow lifting as he shifted the weight of his pack on his shoulder. He tried for some kind of truce. "Would you like me to carry one of those for you?"

"No, thank you." Ambrose held a case in either hand, walking deliberately out through the gate, chin raised proudly. "I can manage my meager possessions just fine, Mister Cain."

Cain watched the other man flounce his way down the first few yards of the brick road, smirking faintly. He shifted his stance, arms folding across his chest, as he waited for the moment when it was going to sink in with the advisor...

Ambrose stopped in his tracks, pivoting sharply. His brown eyes glowered at Cain. "Wait a minute. I don't even know where we're going." He blinked. "Why are you laughing? What's so funny, Cain?"

"Nothing, sweetheart." Still chuckling richly, the law man strode up to where the other stood, an arm slipping around behind Ambrose to nudge him back along the road. "Come on. It's a surprise. You'll just have to follow my lead."

The first part of their trek was far more pleasant. Cain listened as Ambrose pointed out things that held some kind of historical importance, from the flowers that grew here and there to the moss-covered relics of ancient structures. He smiled to himself as they walked, enjoying how interested Ambrose was in his one-sided discussion. The man would have made an excellent teacher. By the time they reached an inn that evening, Cain knew more names of plants than he'd ever have found out of a book.

He figured that Ambrose, in all that time, had forgotten to be mad at him.

Then the advisor requested two rooms, much to Cain's surprise. He tried not to gawk at the smaller man in front of the innkeeper, which surely would have gotten him a raised eyebrow. Ambrose paid for the rooms, parting from the table with a charming smile. He led the way up the wooden stairs to the second level, Cain having to hurry to catch up.

"Hey, Ambrose? Why did you get two rooms, instead of just one?"

A key was pressed into his palm, as Ambrose stopped in front of one of the locked doors. He unlocked it with his own key, answering Cain in a tone that was too light. "I should think it obvious, Mister Cain. My luggage will be keeping me company tonight, what little it is. Your room is across the hall. Sleep well!"

Then Cain found himself staring at a closed door. The tin man sighed heavily, adjusting his hat. "Good Gods.."

* * *

Cain's door opened close to midnight, the hinges creaking quietly. It woke him immediately, though he remained motionless in his bed, aside from his fingers, which were already curling around his gun where he had it stationed underneath his pillow. Intruder? He slit his eyes open to determine who had come in.

He relaxed when he saw that it was only the usual slim figure padding softly towards his bed on bare feet. Ambrose's pale face glowed blue from the light of the twin moons beaming down through the window, the advisor pausing next to the bed as if waiting to see if he were about to get shot or not. Cain uncocked the gun, then scooted himself over to the right side of the bed, closer to the wall, to give the other some room.

"Thanks." Ambrose whispered as he eased down next to Cain, pulling the blankets up over him as he settled in beside the law man. "I couldn't sleep."

Normally, having Ambrose invade his quarters tended to be for carnal intent. Yet Cain knew that this was one of those other times -- the times when Ambrose searched him out for comfort, rather than passion, frightened by whatever demons of the past were haunting him. Cain could tell by the forlorn expression on that face as it turned towards him in the pale dark.

"Bad dreams?" Cain asked, his voice low and sluggish from sleep. He knew that the advisor was often plagued with those. With so many memories having come back to him once his brain had been restored, Cain knew that a majority of them probably weren't pleasant.

"Nah. Just too many things in my head." The advisor rubbed at his forehead with a hand. Despite the fact that Ambrose had finally received a clean bill of health from the alchemists, his brain having healed, there were still times when memories crept up on him unawares. It happened most at night, when he tried to sleep, and his mind decided that it was the perfect time to begin a nostalgic picture show.

Cain shifted on the mattress, an arm snaking around Ambrose's middle, drawing the man in close. He pressed a kiss to the man's closest temple, nuzzling it affectionately. "Just try to clear your head, sweetheart. Think about other things." Out of everyone who knew the advisor, Cain was the best expert on how to deal with inescapable memories.

"I'll try." Ambrose promised, as he rolled his face in to burrow against Cain's shoulder, the advisor's mop of brown curls tickling below the tin man's chin.

Despite not knowing how he managed to pull it off everytime this happened, Cain was relieved when he found that his presence and their embrace seemed enough of a balm for Ambrose's mind. The advisor fell asleep in minutes.

* * *

Cain made sure to have biscuits waiting the next morning, when Ambrose finally came down the stairs with his things. While Cain himself woke up every dawn alert and prepared to begin the day, the advisor seemed to have trouble managing waking up at a reasonable hour in the morning. Secretly, this is when Cain liked him the best. Groggy, grouchy, and as conscious of himself as a child waking too abruptly from a nap.

Ambrose dropped onto the stool beside Cain, not even bothering to hide a wide yawn as he blinked blearily around him. His hair was tousled from sleep, which Cain might have normally fixed for him, except for the shady looks of a few patrons in the inn that the law man wagered would have taken it badly. He settled for smirking over to the advisor, sliding the plate of fresh-baked biscuits in front of the other man. "Mornin', sunshine. Glad to see that you decided to finally wake up."

"It wasn't entirely my choice." The advisor said around a mouthful of biscuit, chewing halfheartedly in his lack of clarity. "Apparently, your room was booked next to the Honeymoon Suite, and the newlyweds were making use of their expense." Cain choked on his coffee, sputtering some of it out. He quickly wiped at his mouth with a napkin to recover.

The advisor, however, was continuing, without care or concern for his volume. It was still too early in the day for him to be bothered with details like that. "I feel like I owe them a gift, or at the very least some money. I mean, they might as well have involved me, loud as they were. Quinton and Eugenie -- how I shall miss our times together." Ambrose absently saluted the air with his mug of coffee, drinking deeply, as if it weren't burning hot. He could put that stuff away like men could handle their liquor, Cain noticed.

He wasn't going to stop him. Coffee was one of the only cures to Ambrose's sleepiness. That, and another tactic, which Cain was not going to try while they sat within this rough crowd. The blond listened as Ambrose carried on in that vein of topic, counting the minutes that he continued to prattle mindlessly, knowing that once Ambrose finally woke up, he'd ask about it. After four cups of coffee, Ambrose was finally blinking around with a sharper gaze, the biscuits on his plate having been devoured in his sleep-induced daze. He sighed, reaching up to ruefully rub the back of his head. "So... how long was I talking this time?"

"Seventeen minutes straight." Cain supplied, putting his empty mug down on the countertop. "You actually stopped for breath four times. It's getting better."

"Let's hit the road, before I embarass myself any further." Ambrose murmured, placing ample payment and a little over out of sympathy for the staff who'd had to listen to him ramble. He picked up his luggage, waiting for Cain near the door.

The tin man stepped out with him, deeply breathing in the scents of the morning air, without the smells of Central City to corrupt it. He savored it as they walked away from the inn, the pair making their way back to the road.

"Well, boys, looky here! If it ain't old Cain himself."

His enjoyment of the morning fell abruptly flat by the dire promise in that gruff voice, Cain turning in its direction, calmly noting the presence of the four rough guys who lounged on the outside of the inn. It looked like they had been playing cards. Yet now their attention had become focused completely on him. He squinted his eyes, trying to remember, then blinked. "Bore? Bore, from Central? I hadn't heard that they'd let you out of prison."

"Few years back, for good behavior." The giant of a man grinned, rotten teeth filling his mouth.

Cain grew tense as the four of them began to climb to their feet, now recognizing more than one from his tin man days. "I'd advise you boys stick to your cards; I have no quarrel with any of you." He stepped automatically in front of Ambrose, placing himself between the advisor and the four men.

"Just ignore them, Cain." Ambrose said stiffly behind him, eyes cold towards the four. "These callous ruffians are just seeking to ruin your morning with their talk. Come on.."

The advisor turned to go, walking towards the road. He ignored the laughter that his words got out of the four, determined to be the bigger individual here. Then one of them made the mistake of chortling out, "Who's that, Cain? Your fancy rent boy?"

Ambrose stopped in his tracks. He sighed, placing his luggage down on either side of him, twisting around to walk past Cain in the direction of the four men.

* * *

Five minutes later, that luggage was picked back up, Ambrose and Cain striding casually away from the tangled mess of limbs behind them. The advisor inhaled deeply, then smiled. "What a nice morning for a walk."


	2. Chapter 2

They had to camp outside that night, once Ambrose had decided that he could go no further. Cain knew better than to argue. While he was used to hearing that voice whining loudly, that voice now whined at him using really big words which made Cain's head hurt. It was definitely one of the things he missed about the old headcase -- at least Glitch's complaints were never so verbose.

Cain was the one responsible for settings things up, giving the other man things to do here and there. Clearing away brush, unfurling their bedrolls. The law man took care of everything else, including building a fire and hunting down dinner. Ambrose never complained about the food. Cain surmised that he'd probably eaten worse when he was Glitch. They ate together in a companionable silence, the quiet between them always comfortable, as it had been ever since that day in the wagon when he'd woken up a snoring headcase to get them going on their journey to save DG. Well, it had been a comfortable silence, when Glitch wasn't talking endlessly on and on about nothing relevant.

After dinner, they climbed into their bedrolls for the extra warmth, sitting shoulder to shoulder while Cain talked about a few of his adventures from his stint as a tin man in Central City when their earlier encounter had spurred the advisor's curiosity. Ambrose listened intently to the man talk, resting his head on Cain's shoulder, watching the fire. It still felt strange to the law man, to relax into this easy affection.

Then it was time to sleep. Or at least make an attempt. Because when the blanket settled over them, that led to warm touches. Warm touches led to warm kisses. And warm kisses led too quickly into something hotter, that ended up with Cain moving over the other, not even bothering to muffle the noises that Ambrose made while there was no one out here to hear them. He was only satisfied when the advisor was sated, close to sleep, and they clutched each other there through the rest of the night.

Ambrose was in a cheerful mood the next morning, as they washed up in the brook nearby, before resuming their trek. It was colder than it had been yesterday, so they bundled themselves up further, Cain keeping one hand ready to keep the advisor steady as they traveled deeper into the woodlands. Ambrose looked around them, breath flowing out of him in a pale cloud, frowning distractedly.

"What is it?" Cain asked him, sensing the other man's hesitation.

"Nothing.." Shaking his head, he nodded for the law man to continue. "This just seemed like a.. a familiar walk. Maybe I wandered through here once?"

"You might have." The tin man nodded. "In fifteen annuals, you could have wandered to the northern peaks and back. The most well-traveled headcase in the whole O.Z."

Ambrose laughed at the idea, carefully stepping down an embankment as they continued, not wanting to slip and fall. "Probably. It's a shame that I can't remember all the places that I went then. Glitch would have made a fine map-maker."

That made them both fall silent. The subject of 'Glitch' was still touchy for both of them, considering that Ambrose had informed all of his friends upon waking from the incident at the Dark Tower that the headcase they knew had gone quiet in his head. He supposed that they missed their old friend, and couldn't shake a shred of guilt at being unable to deliver him to them. Cain never said it, but Ambrose suspected that the law man missed the headcase most of all.

Cain still had not told Ambrose where they were going. The advisor tried to weasel hints out of the tin man whenever he could. It was impossible to pry much information out of Cain when he was determined to keep a secret. Ambrose gave up after the third day of travel. All that Cain told him was that they would get there soon enough.

The scenery became forgettable, until Ambrose lost his interest in surveying their surroundings. He became intent on watching his feet, as the steps continued one after the other, the advisor slipping into auto-pilot as he followed behind Cain. It seemed that this walk was never going to end. Was this walk supposed to count as their vacation? If so, Ambrose felt immensely disappointed.

Then, suddenly, they had arrived.

Ambrose slowed to a stop, even as Cain continued on ahead, striding along the edge of the lake as he walked to the moss-covered cabin. He stopped on the steps leading inside, just having noticed that the advisor had fallen behind. "Ambrose? Something wrong?"

"No." The advisor shook his head, tentatively approaching. "I just .. hadn't expected that we'd come here. This was your home, wasn't it?"

Cain nodded, eyes sweeping across the homestead, touching briefly on the crooked suit which still kept its post on the edge of the property. He quickly focused back on Ambrose, waving the man towards him. "Come on in. I'll need to see how much of the place is still inhabitable."

The interior of the cabin looked only slightly improved over the exterior. Time and the forces of nature had reclaimed much of it, places where the wood had rotted away from too much moisture and a lack of maintenance. The furniture was gone, whether from bandits or from Jeb and Adora having taken it all, Cain wasn't sure. It was still home. While time might have made it seem strange, the sense of belonging still remained strong.

He took his hat off, reaching it over, blindly settling it upon the hook where it had been hung every night for several annuals. Blue eyes searched around him, memory coating them as Cain remembered what it had been like before the iron suit. He stood in the entrance between the kitchen and the main room, absorbed in the past.

A creak of the floorboards behind him reminded Cain that he wasn't alone. He took a step further in, moving to the side so that Ambrose could enter. The advisor was looking around the home with uncertainty, reverant, as if afraid to disturb anything resting here. "It's.. so worn down. Are you sure that you want to stay here?"

"Very." Cain cleared his throat, looking towards the other man. "Actually, I was thinking that I'd turn it into a project. Fix the old place up. You're good at fixing things -- you could help me."

"I work with machines, not houses." Ambrose said doubtfully, measuring the sheer amount of work that would need to go into such an undertaking.

"It's not so different." The tin man murmured. "This home has been in the Cain family for generations. It was built by my great-great-great-grandfather when he settled down on this spot of land. Seems a shame to let it fall to ruin now. I thought I'd fix it up in case Jeb wanted to bring DG here for their honeymoon."

"Oh. Well, that sounds like a marvelous idea." Ambrose cautiously placed his cases down, frowning around the place. "I suppose I could figure out what to do, if you instruct me."

Cain smiled faintly. "Great. The first thing to do is to get this place cleaned out. You grab that broom over there, and I'll start tossing out the heavy bits of debris. If we work at it, then we should have the place mildly liveable before dinner tonight."

* * *

Ambrose wondered why he'd been stuck with the task of manual labor. He sneezed every time a cloud of dust came up into his face, the effort to get everything swept up eventually led to most of the cabin becoming filled with a mist of spores, so both of them had to retreat outside in order to let the place air out. Ambrose doubled over, hacking, hoping that nothing that he'd breathed in would prove fatal. Cain swatted him on the back to clear the other man's lungs, while watching the spores drifting out into the midday sky. "You okay?"

"Oh, just ducky!" Ambrose snapped, or tried to, since talking was difficult around that steady cough. "My fingers are littered with splinters from your evil broom, my back and arms hurt from the menial labor, and now your house is trying to choke me to death."

With a tsk, Cain grabbed hold of the advisor's wrists, lifting both of Ambrose's hands up to check on his fingers. He did see quite a few chips of wood jutting out of the man's skin, finding that it wasn't such an exaggeration after all. "Come over here and sit down. I'll get these out for you."

They settled on a patch of grass away from that fading cloud of dust and spores, letting the sun wash down on them. Cain bent over Ambrose's hands, plucking delicately at the splinters to unlodge them from the advisor's fingers. He made a face at the whimpering noises that the dark-haired man made, Ambrose focusing off to the side as if Cain were performing major surgery. When he was finished, the law man pulled those fingers up to his mouth, pressing a quick kiss to the pads. "There. Is that better?"

"I suppose." Ambrose studied his fingers, rubbing them gingerly together. "The cloud has subsided for now -- it might be safe."

"Let's get back to work, then." Cain stood up, brushing himself up. He waved a hand in front of his face, waving away a few lingering spores as he returned to tossing out rotted bits of wood which had fallen around the place.

By nightfall, the interior of the cabin was barren, but much cleaner than it had originally been. Cain had succeeded in clearing things out, even pulling branches and moss off of the windows. Some of the glass was broken in places, the law man carefully breaking off the jagged pieces for disposal. Ambrose had swept out most of the dust, the floorboards now visible, a few of them broken or rotted out. The place wasn't yet comfortable enough to live in, but it was definitely good enough for them to sleep in with some protection from the elements.

Cain spread their bedrolls out in a room upstairs, one of the few that didn't have any broken windows. It was the room that he and Adora had shared. He tried not to think about it too much as he got everything smoothed out. Ambrose wandered into the room already dressed in his pajamas, blinking around the room, a candle lit in a holder clutched in his hand. Cain glanced up to the other man where he had settled out on the floor, flipping back a corner of the blankets.

Ambrose knelt down, carefully placing the candle of the ground beside the makeshift bed. He slid in next to the law man, stretching as much as he could, cold feet tucking in against Cain's, making the man jump in surprise. With a soft laugh, Ambrose snuggled closer. "Sorry. The floor here is about as bad as the one in the Frozen Palace."

"It's fine." Cain murmured absently, fitting an arm around that snuggling body. He was distracted by his thoughts, which had turned to the past once again. His memory was fixed on Adora, recalling the nights that they had spent together just like this one. Her feet had always been cold, too, which she had warmed in the exact same way.

Sensing Cain's distraction, Ambrose got quiet. He listened to the steady thrum of the tin man's heartbeat, fingers dancing idly over the buttons of Cain's pajama top. "Hey, Cain..?"

"Hm?"

"...Nothing. Sleep well."

"You too, Glitch."

Ambrose blinked, a small frown forming. Then he twisted back over his shoulder, blowing out the candle, leaving them in the quiet darkness of the house.

* * *

"Wyatt? Wyatt, honey, wake up."

"Hm?" Cain forced one eye open, blinking up at the figure shaking him.

Adora withdrew her hand, both fists settling on her hips as she glowered down at the man. "Lazy bones. Did you forget that I asked you to get the wood pile filled back up last night?"

The law man stared up at her, before sitting slowly up, looking around in confusion. "Wood pile? Where's...?" He trailed off, frowning, wondering if he'd been dreaming.

"Where's who?" Adora asked him curiously, head tilting as she looked around while he did. "Jeb? He's been outside playing for a little over an hour now. You're the last one to wake." She bent over him, draping the backs of her fingers across his forehead in concern. "Are you okay, Wyatt? You look pretty spooked."

"I'm.. fine." Pushing back the blankets, he slid out of bed. Adora moved back as he got up, eyebrows raising on her forehead. Cain headed for the door, the woman following him along, wondering at his bizarre behavior.

"Wyatt?"

"I'm looking for Ambrose."

"Ambrose? Who's that?" Adora was looking at him as if he had gone crazy, her steps creaking lightly as she followed him down the stairs. "Honey, there's no one else here."

Cain grunted absently, pulling open the front door of the cabin as he stepped outside, gaze sweeping across the area. He saw Jeb running around in the yard, the boy laughing as he chased around a delicate yellow butterfly. The lake was rippling with a light breeze, frogs croaking along its edges.

The iron suit stood in the front yard, shiny and new. Adora stood beside him, asking him curiously, "Wyatt? Honey, you're scaring me. What is it?"

"The suit. Don't you see it?"

"Suit?" Adora looked out past him, searching the yard where he pointed. "I don't see anything but Jeb. Maybe you should head back to bed, Wyatt, and I'll fix you a nice chicken broth. Would you like that?"

Scowling, Cain moved down the steps of the porch, heading towards the suit. How could she not see it when it was standing there plain as day? He reached up, curling his fingers around one of the handles, muscles bunching to yank it open.

"Cain? What are you doing?"

The illusion shattered. Cain blinked as he found himself standing in front of the old rusted suit, clutching it with one hand. It was the middle of the night, judging by how high the moons were in the sky overhead. He looked back over his shoulder in the direction of that voice.

Ambrose's face was flushed as if he had run all the way down here from the room upstairs. Usually, such an abrupt awakening would have left him groggy, but those dark eyes were very much awake, stamped now with confusion and fear. He repeated himself softly as he reached for the banister beside him. "Cain?"

"Ambrose." The tin man shook his head, dropping his hand away from the suit. "Sorry. I guess I must have wandered down here in my sleep."

"You scared me half to death." Moving gingerly across the ground considering that his feet were still bare, Ambrose came to stand in front of Cain, looking up to him searchingly. "I called out to you, but you didn't hear me."

"Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to frighten you." He felt guilty for that, gathering up the advisor against his chest, embracing him desperately close. Cain showered a few kisses on the crown of that lowered head. "Don't know what happened there."

Ambrose nodded, before drawing back from the embrace, his left hand taking hold of Cain's. What could he possibly say at a time like this? Words failed him. So, he decided to go for something simple. "Let's get back into bed, hm?"

Cain nodded. This time, for a change, he let the other man take the lead, as he followed along in a daze.

* * *

The next morning, they worked together to gather some lumber to repair the rotted bits of wood in the cabin. Cain put forth most of the effort, not sure if he trusted Ambrose with an axe or not. It gave him time to focus himself, as he hacked at the log to section it for the boards, letting his mind turn to last night's strange hallucination.

He had never wandered in his sleep before. Yet something had drawn him out of bed, through the cabin, and out to that suit. Cain wasn't a believer in most things considered supernatural, but the surreal experience gave him reason to rethink it. He'd felt like a man possessed. Cain didn't like that idea at all. He thought that he'd ask Ambrose about it, but the advisor had been avoiding any mention of the night's events.

As if his thoughts had been a summons, Ambrose came out of the cabin's open door to gather the next bundle of boards. He had a small bowl in his left hand, which he held out to Cain once he stopped beside the law man. "Here, I brought you out some water. I managed to get the fire pit sorted out, so I think I might actually be able to manage a proper meal tonight."

Cain tipped the bowl to his lips, gulping down mouthfuls of water. He wiped at his chin with his forearm, sleeves rolled up to his elbows while he chopped. "Thanks. I needed that. Glad to hear that you got the pit working -- what do you think you'll make?"

"Well.." Ambrose tilted his head to the side, frowning. "I don't have supplies for anything too fancy. Maybe a stew tonight. It'll probably be cold again, so that should help keep us warmed up. What do you think?"

"Sounds good to me." Draining the rest of the bowl, Cain handed it back to the other man. "Are we going to talk about last night over dinner, or do you plan to keep ignoring it altogether?"

Ambrose snorted. "It was just sleepwalking, Cain. I'm sure it was nothing. You shouldn't be worrying yourself over it."

"Okay. If you say so." Shrugging, the tin man picked the axe back up. If Ambrose didn't think that there was anything to be worried about, then Cain decided that he would let the matter drop too.

Later that night, the fire filled the cabin with light and warmth. Cain sat at the table in the kitchen, intent on carving out an angle into one of the boards so that it would fit properly into the floor when they finished placing them tomorrow. Whatever Ambrose was making in that pot made his stomach growl; it certainly smelled delicious. He looked up from his work to comment on it.

Adora stood in front of the pit, stirring at the contents of the large black pot. She glanced over once noticing that Cain had looked her way, smiling sweetly. The woman then busied herself with ladelling some of the stew into a pair of bowls, humming all the while.

Cain frowned, lowering his knife and the board to the top of the table, watching as Adora came over to where he was working. She placed a bowl down in front of him, opening her mouth to speak, but it was Ambrose's voice that came out. "Sorry, but there aren't any utensils. You'll just have to eat it as it is."

Adora's image vanished with a blink, as Cain found himself looking up at the pale advisor. Ambrose was already seating himself across the way, placing his own bowl down on the table, his words continuing as if Cain weren't sitting there looking so shocked. "I wish that we had some bread. We'll probably need to go into a town for supplies if we stay much longer. What?"

Ambrose had finally looked over at him, blinking at the look on Cain's face. The law man shook his head, dismissing it, as he focused down on his bowl. "Nothing. Um.. we'll go into town tomorrow for those supplies." Cain then cupped his bowl with both hands, lifting it up as he began to eat.

At the other side of the table, Ambrose's stare lingered on him for another minute, the gears in that brilliant mind churning behind those dark eyes. Then he began to eat as well.

It was the first time that they shared a strangely silent, awkward meal.

* * *

That night, Cain's appetite was fierce, close to uncontrollable.

His hands clutched for Ambrose, fingers eager to touch every inch of flesh that he could discover, making the advisor writhe with desire. He knew that he was being possessive, memorizing the unique shapes of his lover's body, marking that pale flesh with the warmth of his touch.

Ambrose did not protest, though he normally liked to be more involved in their lovemaking than Cain was allowing him to be. He didn't even complain when Cain took him quickly, hard and fast, merely arching his hips up to meet those thrusts in answer to the law man's demanding lust.

Their passion was intense, explosive as always, and Cain knew that it would not last long, because he himself was on the verge. He thanked the Gods when Ambrose finally cried out beneath him, Cain taking that second to let himself go as well, so that their souls might linger together in that most intimate of moments. Both of them were trembling from the power of their release, Ambrose's arms tightening around the neck of the tin man, nearly choking him. The man was whispering something over and over again that Cain's dazed mind could not absorb, until he clutched that head with a hand and brought Ambrose's mouth closer to his ear.

"Love you, love you, love you."

Cain sighed as those little whispers of endearment trickled to silence, using his grip on that head to draw it up against his chest in a tender embrace.

Then, the law man's mouth was opening. He thought it the perfect time to finally repeat that sentiment, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth, there was a miscommunication, as Cain breathed out one word into the air.

"Adora.."

* * *

Despite the clear sunshine day that was visible through the windows of the home, the atmosphere inside of the cabin was colder than the Frozen Palace. Cain had found that the bedroll that had been moved across the room last night was empty when he woke up at his usual early morning hour, so he got dressed and went to track down the advisor. He rubbed at the base of his neck, scowling, trying to think up what words he could possibly say to set right the error he had made last night.

The law man came downstairs to find that Ambrose was already awake, dressed, and in the middle of weaving together a new straw rug for the floor. Cain cautiously studied the man, trying to decide if it were safe to approach or not. Ambrose's eyes were very dark today, even more striking than usual in that pale face because of the circles underneath them from lack of sleep. The advisor did not look up from his work, even when Cain deliberately creaked a few of the boards just to indicate that he was standing in the room.

It was definitely the silent treatment. Cain shifted his hand to rub at his face instead, pulling at his brain for something useful to say. "Um.. Did you still want to go into town and get those supplies?"

Dark eyes rolled up to him, though Ambrose kept his face lowered to his work, perfecting the image of expressed annoyance, voice flat. "That's it? Your valiant effort?"

"What do you want me to say?" Cain asked sharply. It wasn't his fault that he'd made such a slip. He could handle being angry better than he could handle feeling guilty.

"Oh, I don't know.." Now a bitterness crept into the advisor's tone, as Ambrose glared at him, "perhaps you could apologize? 'Sorry, Ambrose, didn't mean to call out my dead wife's name in the middle of an orgasm'. That might work."

Cain pointed at him, feeling his temper rising. "Don't bring Adora into this. We aren't talking about her, we're talking about us."

"Are you trying to tell me that you have no intention of apologizing?" Ambrose looked genuinely shocked, then laughed in exasperation. "You mean to say that you find it perfectly okay to call out someone else's name at a time like that? Shall I start calling out names of my former trysts? I can just picture how pleased you'd be if I called you Zero at a time like that, and--" He shut up abruptly.

"What?" Cain frowned. "Why would you call me 'Zero'?"

Ambrose threw his project down on the tabletop, rising out of his chair. "Forget it. You're too thick-headed for us to have this conv--"

"Why would you call me 'Zero' while we were having sex, Ambrose?" Cain asked more firmly, indicating by the tone of his voice that he wasn't going to settle for that question going unanswered.

That triggered something from Ambrose that Cain had never seen in its raw form. He'd seen every spectrum of emotion from the other man, but never glimpsed the advisor being outright angry. His temper was usually laced with something else to soften it, make it seem harmless. But when Ambrose slammed both hands down on the top of the table hard enough to shake it, his eyes burning towards Cain as that pale face turned livid, the law man knew that this was full rage unveiled.

"Because I had sex with Zero, of course! Is that what you want me to admit? Sorry to disappoint your suspicions, but I'm afraid that it's ancient history, Cain!" Ambrose shouted at him. "Zero and I had sex once when we were younger, before I even got a position in the palace."

"You don't think that you should have told me?" Cain snapped back loudly.

"Why?" The advisor's hands circled in the air, gesturing in his anger. "Why should I tell you about something that happened so far in my past? You don't see me asking you about sex with your wife, do you? Good _Gods_, Wyatt!"

Cain shook his head. "You should have told me. It was Zero. You should have told me."

"So that you could find an ample excuse why not to get involved with me?" Ambrose asked him, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "If you're looking for some kind of excuse not to continue with this, then let me save you the effort of working that brain of yours too hard."

The advisor stalked out through the opened door of the cabin, slamming it shut in his wake. Cain let him go blow off steam, too angry himself to trust that he wouldn't just continue the argument if he gave chase. He sat down heavily in Ambrose's abandoned chair, dropping his head to rest in his hands as he found himself suddenly plagued by a terrible headache.

* * *

A few hours passed before Cain finally decided to try it over again. Both he and the advisor had remained at their opposite places since the earlier argument -- Cain inside and Ambrose out. Cain was beginning to grow worried from not hearing anything from his lover, especially since he had not seen him since their argument. He got up from the table, opening the door to the cabin and stepping outside, the sky still bright.

There was no sign of Ambrose in the front yard, so Cain walked along the porch towards the side of the cabin, until he came around the corner and found where the advisor had been occupying himself.

The grass on that side of the house had been disturbed, dug up in narrow lines of dirt that had formed a perfect square. Cain leaned up against the cabin, curiously watching as Ambrose continued with his work, oblivious to being watched. The advisor's jacket hung on a post nearby, sleeves rolled up as he hacked into the ground with a small hand shovel. Ambrose's face had a smear of dirt on it, as well as the fine fabric of his white shirt. Approaching him slowly, Cain called out quietly to the man, not wanting to startle him. "What are you doing?"

Ambrose paused in mid-hack, shovel buried in the dirt in front of where he knelt in the grass. His head dropped down, face lowered under a curtain of short brown curls as he answered at a mumble. "Gardening. Well, teaching myself how to garden, anyway."

"Why are you gardening right now, of all times?" Cain came down off the porch, coming to stand at the edge of that carefully lined patch of soil.

One of the advisor's shoulders pulsed up in a shrug, as he used his hand to pile the dirt into a neat mound. "I've heard that it's considered therapeutic. Now seemed a good a time as any to try it out." Ambrose then bent back forward, resuming his work in silence, leaving Cain to puzzle out the man's bizarre behavior.

"I'm sorry."

Ambrose looked up sharply, until his eyes could fix on Cain's face. But it was half-obscured by the brim of the tin man's hat. He settled back on his knees, blinking at Cain, waiting silently once he realized that the man had more to say.

"I had no right to yell at you, Ambrose. That was unfair of me. You were right in saying that I didn't need to know about your past with Zero. I guess I still haven't been able to work up the strength to even start forgiving him. I don't know that I ever will. And I should have apologized for saying... what I said, when I did.. but I was too stubborn. Will you please forgive me?"

The inventor looked off to the side, towards the lake nearby. He nodded softly. "I forgive you, Cain. I shouldn't have reacted the way that I did. It was inappropriate behavior on my part, for which I also apologize."

Cain smiled faintly. "Forgiven, sweetheart." He held out a hand for the other to take. "Come on, I'll help you get cleaned up."

Ambrose eyed that extended hand. Then he sighed faintly, putting his dirty one into it, allowing Cain to pull him up to his feet. He left the hand shovel laying on the ground beside the foundling garden, while the tin man led him back into the cabin now that their truce had been made.


	3. Chapter 3

Cain became aware of two things when he woke up the next morning. One, Ambrose's luggage wasn't there. Two, that the advisor was also absent.

He hurriedly dressed, grabbing the closest clothes that fit him. Coming downstairs, it was discovered that there was no sign of Ambrose there, either. Cain went outside, looking wildly around the yard, checking at the garden to see if perhaps the man had gotten an early start on it.

Nothing. No trace of the man anywhere in sight.

It wasn't until he got back inside that Cain found the piece of paper sitting on the kitchen table. He sat down, expelling a breath that he didn't know he'd held, before reading:

_Wyatt,_

_You may have noticed by now that I am not here any longer. I would ask that you do not follow me. My intent is to return to Central City once I have completed a task at a place significant to my own past._

_My being there with you is counterproductive. Obviously, you need to work out your issues with the ghosts of your past, and decide whether or not you will finally let them go. I know that if I stay, I will selfishly lead you towards the conclusion that I want, rather than the one destined in your heart. Take this time to put things to rest, or linger in the past with my blessing. There will be no hard feelings no matter which road you decide to take. I will be waiting at the end either way._

_With Love,_

_Your Headcase_

Cain read the letter over a few times. Then he sighed into the silence of the cabin, dropping his head down into a hand. "Wyatt Cain, you are an idiot..."

* * *

"Ambrose Andersen, you are an idiot."

The advisor cursed himself yet again for such an impetuous decision, as he picked his way through the woodlands on the way back towards Central City. He was going to try to travel as far as he could without stopping, since setting up a camp properly was going to be difficult without the bedroll that he'd left behind from his dramatic exit. The problem with dramatic exits being that he couldn't very well turn around to reclaim what he had forgotten. There were still plenty of hours ahead of him, since he had started so early. His luggage felt heavy in his hands -- perhaps he should have left it, too?

"You wandered around the O.Z. with nothing but the clothes on your back for fifteen annuals. One would think that you could manage just fine this far down the road." Ambrose found absolutely nothing wrong with talking to himself. The sound of his own voice kept him company on the trip. Besides, upbraiding himself was somehow making him feel better. Oh, how he needed therapy for his issues!

Fortunately, whenever Ambrose put his mind to it, the man exhibited an iron will. So when he felt himself growing tired, he talked himself out of that lethargy in order to continue on. By the time he had walked through a full day, a full night, and half through another day, the advisor was finally satisfied that he'd made enough progress for a break. He sat down on a large log on the side of a cleared trail, figuring that it must have led somewhere. Once his feet stopped hurting, then Ambrose reasoned that he would see if it led to any kind of shelter. Surely someone would let him stay in their house if he gave them a platinum or two for payment. That would have seemed like unknown riches to anyone living out here.

His theory proved correct, as the advisor continued along that path once he'd rested enough. Ambrose passed a man who was chopping wood along the side of the road without sparing him a glance, intent on the cabin that was coming into view ahead of him. Once again, he was struck by a sense of the familiar, though he couldn't place his finger on it. Had he been here before?

"Glitch?"

Ambrose stopped. He walked backwards three full strides, turning his head towards the man who had spoken. The advisor studied the man curiously, wondering how he had known that name.

The man was young, as if he had only recently reached full adulthood. His hair was black and sleek, eyes shaped into exotic angles. He was staring at Ambrose just as curiously, placing the axe down as he approached the advisor. "Glitch, is that really you?"

"You know me?" Ambrose asked cautiously, muscles tensing as the other approached him.

In response, the young man grinned. Then he twisted his hips sharply, movements quick, as his foot launched out towards Ambrose. The advisor raised his arm, blocking it instinctively, letting the case in that hand take the brunt of the hit. He had to lower the other as the young man shifted quickly, their forearms slamming together as Ambrose blocked the next swift attack.

Dancing back a few steps, the man appraised him with his gaze. Then he laughed. "Yes, that's you all right. You look very different from when I saw you last, but I'll always remember that sloppy fighting style."

"I beg your pardon, but it is not sloppy." Ambrose protested, having dropped his cases to the ground as he stanced himself, waiting for another attack to come. As he studied the man's face longer, time and memory overlayed one more familiar to him -- a young face, a beaming grin, and Ambrose suddenly knew who this was.

"Yinn?"

"You aren't in as sorry a state as you were the first time you wandered here, but it's close." Yinn laughed, waving him onward. "Come on, into my home. The wood can wait until later."

* * *

"I've been living here since Grandfather passed on, about four years back." Yinn explained as they sat down together at his kitchen table, steaming cups of tea cooling in front of them as they caught each other up on their history. "It's hard being out here all by myself, without him for company. I have often thought about leaving here for one of the towns, or perhaps even the City on the Hill, but..." Trailing off, Yinn looked out the window to where a tombstone of wood lay underneath the large sprawling oak tree that shadowed the cabin, "I would feel guilty leaving Grandfather alone here."

Ambrose warmed his hands with his own cup of tea, looking away from the window and back to Yinn, voice soothingly gentle. "I am sure that your Grandfather would understand. He was a good man. As are you, Yinn. You were both very kind to me, despite how I looked and acted. If not for you, I would probably have fallen into ruin."

Yinn shook his head. "That would never happen to you. Grandfather said to me, when I started to show you how our people fight, that he could see a great strength of spirit in your soul. Even though you had lost your brain, you would not surrender to defeat from it. That is why we came to admire you so greatly."

"Thank you." Ambrose didn't know what else to say to words like that. Speechless, he took the time to sip from his cup, the tea which Yinn had brewed for them calming his nerves and easing some of the aches in his muscles from where he had overexerted himself with walking.

"What about you? I see that you have no more zipper on your head -- you got your brain back?"

"Yes." Ambrose nodded. "About six moon cycles back. I had gone on a bit of an adventure shortly after the operation, so it took longer to heal than originally believed." He smiled wryly, looking over at the other. "But I'm back in my old position. Would you believe that I am actually a noble in service to the Queen of the O.Z.?"

"Seriously? You?"

"Indeed. It was quite a shock to me when I remembered." He laughed, shaking his head. "Yet it's true. I'm the Queen's Royal Advisor."

Yinn looked quite impressed, eyebrows arching. He then grinned, nodding his head. "I suppose that I can believe that. You were too pampered to be someone common."

Ambrose frowned at that. Yinn continued, "Grandfather and I speculated about it for a long time, especially after you disappeared. We finally decided that wherever you had come from, destiny would eventually carry you back."

"Strange how that all worked out." The advisor murmured thoughtfully. "As if it were all pre-destined to happen, for me to fall into the circumstances that I did, which led me to this point."

"You're a lucky spirit, Glitch." The man paused. "Though now you remember your old name, don't you?"

"Yes." Ambrose smiled, stretching his hand out across the table. "Ambrose."

Yinn took his hand, shaking it firmly as he returned the smile. "A pleasure to meet you properly at last, Ambrose." Withdrawing his hand, the man pointed to Ambrose's cup. "Finish your tea. It will help you to relax. You can sleep in Grandfather's old room tonight. We can talk more in the morning, once you have rested."

"That would be lovely." Ambrose couldn't argue with that. His eyelids were already starting to grow heavy on him from physical exhaustion and lack of sleep. "I think I'll take this up there with me, or else I may not make it up the stairs with any semblance of dignity."

"I understand." Yinn chuckled softly, his dark eyes twinkling happily in that way that Ambrose remembered. "Sleep well, Ambrose."

"You too, Yinn. See you in the morning."

* * *

Ambrose woke up the next morning feeling thoroughly rested. He nearly hesitated with getting out of bed at all, perhaps just shamelessly lounging. However, that would have been rude to his host. The advisor dressed himself, glad to find that his muscles were not as sore as he had anticipated. That might have had something to do with the tea.

Coming out of the back room, he searched the cabin for some sign of the young man. "Yinn?"

He came into the living area, preventing himself from calling out to the other just in time, as Ambrose found the young man seated in front of an altar in the corner, meditating. This was something that he dimly recalled from his time here as Glitch, when he had watched on in silent wonder while Yinn and his grandfather went through this ritual each morning. The incense was even the same, he realized, once it caressed his senses. Ambrose walked over quietly, reverant in his silence, as he eased himself carefully down onto the pillow beside Yinn's, watching the young man's peaceful face. He knew that he would have to wait until the other was finished. It would have been rude to interrupt.

Yinn's eyes opened slowly, touched by a wisdom that Ambrose had admired when he himself had lacked any such thing. The young man's voice was as smooth as the fabric of the pillows underneath them, addressing the advisor without taking his eyes off the altar. "We did not originate in the O.Z., you know. My ancestor came here from the Otherside many, many annuals ago. He fell in love with the magic of this place and decided to stay."

"I had suspected as much." Ambrose said quietly, listening intently.

"Our old customs were passed down, generation to generation. My grandfather taught me many things about our history. He said that our ancestor was something of a mystic himself. That is the legacy which has now carried on to me with the passing of my grandfather. I am the last one left of my family."

"Me too."

Yinn finally looked over to him, smiling serenely. "Do you know what I meditated on today, my friend?"

Ambrose shook his head, prompting the other to answer. Yinn's smile held as he murmured, "I believe that you wandered back here on the path of your destiny, and that it is a sign to me that mine lies somewhere along your road. While I could not make myself leave this place before this morning, your return has given me the courage to seek out my destiny, just like you did when you left us."

"Well, you could come with me." It had just occurred to him that he should ask. Ambrose smiled himself at the idea. "I am sure that I can secure you a position at the palace. It's the least that I can do in return for everything that you did for me in the past. Once I finish with my business, I'll be returning there."

"I would be honored." Yinn's serenity was broken by his sudden grin, a hand reaching over to clap Ambrose firmly on the back. "There are some things that I cannot leave behind. The rest I can return for at my leisure. Let us travel together, my friend. I am curious to see what adventure it will lead to."

"Hopefully nothing too exciting. I'm frankly done with adventuring for at least another year."

Standing up, Yinn laughed. "We shall see. Somehow, I think that you are a lucky spirit, but also one that falls into trouble easily."

That did ring true to Ambrose, who unleashed a long-suffering sigh. "Hopefully that last tendancy will have passed for the time being." He waved the young man along. "Gather your things. We still have a long walk ahead of us."

"May I ask where we are going?" Yinn asked curiously, head canted to the side.

Ambrose's smile was faint. "I've been to your home, now you'll get to see mine."

* * *

Cain considered himself to be a fairly skilled hunter. It was one of the things that he had learned at a young age from his father, which had been honed over the years from living out in the wilderness. While that time in the suit might have dulled those skills, he was still able to track down whatever he might have been searching for.

In this case, he was hunting a headcase.

He'd picked up Ambrose's trail easily enough. The advisor could have been tracked by an inexperienced hunter. Cain shook his head as he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. He could even tell when the advisor had tripped. In the back of his mind, he made a count of the falls.

How far did the other man go? Cain was rather amazed to see how much progress Ambrose had made in his journey away from the cabin. He was unable to keep the same pace, stopping to rest for a few hours. At the rate that Ambrose was going, Cain knew that he was going to have to limit his breaks -- time lost was trail lost.

Cain settled himself down against the base of a tree, adjusting his hat over his face with a sigh. He was going to have to teach that headcase a lesson, as soon as he got him back in arm's reach.

* * *

_Ambrose had pinned him with a sultry look where the tin man was seated on the sofa inside the inventor's laboratory. Something he'd done had finally managed to lure the man's attention away from his work. Cain tried to remember what it was, for later reference._

_For now, though, he was content simply to enjoy the slim figure that was slipping down to straddle his lap, mouth reaching for Cain's. They were still learning what each other liked, where the best places were to touch or to tease. It was a wonderful education, in Cain's opinion._

_"I have to be out at the barracks in a few minutes." Cain breathlessly warned his lover, unable to speak clearly around the mouth that was glued upon his. "We're going to be conducting drills for the new recruits."_

_"You can conduct drills right here instead." Ambrose purred, fingers finding their way to the buttons of Cain's shirt. He could be quite persuasive, especially when he did _that_ thing with his hips that punched through Cain's self-control like a missile._

_Still, Cain tried to put forth the effort to keep the other man from undressing him, swatting lightly at the hands that were working at his shirt. Ambrose withdrew his hands in temporary defeat, pouting. Then, with a slow spreading grin, his eyes dropped down to the front of his own shirt, lashes masking those impish eyes perfectly as he reasoned. "I guess I'll just have to take mine off first, then, if you're going to decide to be so shy."_

_The inventor reached for the buttons of his shirt, pale flesh tempting Cain where that process began to reveal it. Cain made up his mind that the barracks could wait, watching the show with interest._

_Then the door burst open, and Jeb came rushing in exuding sheer happiness. "Father?!"_

_Cain, unable to think of any other solution in those seconds, found himself moving automatically, as Ambrose was shoved quickly forward, the inventor falling backwards off his lap. He heard his lover's sound of surprise, followed by the dull thump of Ambrose hitting the floor. "Ow..."_

_Jeb spotted them right after Cain's quick attempt to cover their antics, the young man walking hurrriedly over to where his father was seated on the couch. He seemed close to bursting with joy, though whatever the cause of it was, his explanation was briefly put off as he tilted his head down at Ambrose where the man lay. "What are you doing on the floor, Mister Ambrose?"_

_"Teaching.. your father... some breathing exercises for that temper of his." Ambrose managed through gritted teeth as he smiled. His knee cocked, foot slamming roughly into Cain's ankle, making the law man howl in pain._

_"What was that for?" Cain demanded at a growl._

_Ambrose pointed in his direction, nodding to Jeb. "See? Bad temper. He really needs to learn how to center himself better." The inventor picked himself off the floor, brushing off his clothes. Cain could read that under that pleasant expression was frustration at the interruption. The tin man could sympathize completely._

_"I have wonderful news!" Jeb apparently decided that whatever odd exchange he'd just walked in on was tame enough to ignore, shifting back to what he'd burst in here for. "Father, I asked DG to marry me, and she said 'Yes'!"_

_Both Cain and Ambrose wore twin expressions of shock. They looked at each other in synch, then back to Jeb. Cain raised an eyebrow. "You and DG? When did that happen, son? I didn't even know that you two were dating."_

_"Well, we've kept it pretty quiet. Her being Princess, and me being in the military." Jeb explained with a dismissive shrug, smiling wryly. "That, and you two have been pretty busy between carrying out your duties at the palace as well as having your own little ..um .. relationship in secret."_

_Ambrose coughed, firing an accusing look towards Cain. They'd been trying to keep their relationship underwraps from their friends and the rest of the palace. Despite the quirky customs practiced in the O.Z., their particular choice in partners was still looked at from an askewed angle by the general populace -- especially two high-ranking government officials. Cain spread his hands at that look, indicating that he wasn't responsible. "I didn't tell anybody."_

_"Nah, DG figured it out and told me." Jeb murmured, reaching up to reassuringly pat Ambrose's shoulder. "Don't worry about it -- we aren't going to tell anyone, though DG did mention that she plans to push to make relationships like yours ..um.. more socially accepted."_

_"She's going to be having her hands full planning a wedding." The inventor pointed out._

_"Well, actually, I was kind of hoping to talk to you about that." Jeb confessed, turning towards Ambrose. "DG and I were hoping that you might be able to help us with getting the wedding planned out."_

_"Me?" Ambrose blinked, surprised. "Well.. of course. I'd be honored."_

_Cain stood up from the couch, looking closely at his son. "You're really serious? You and DG are going to be married?"_

_"Very serious." Jeb said with a nod. "We've already told the Queen and Ahamo, and they've given their blessing."_

_Cain's shocked face transformed with a smile, as he gathered his son to him in a fierce hug. "That's wonderful news, son! Congratulations!"_

_"I'd say that this calls for a toast!" Ambrose declared as the two Cains parted from their embrace. The inventor slid over to a metal box against the far wall, the top of it littered with delicate parts and half-built creations. He reached down a fist, knocking at a section of the metal. There was a soft hiss, as the front of the seemingly doorless box opened, revealing a small bar complete with glasses and a few bottles. He beckoned them over with a crooked grin. "What's your poison, gents?"_

_"Ambrose.. You have a bar in your laboratory?" Cain asked him, both he and Jeb coming over to stare at the revealed bar in wonder._

_"Small one." He was already filling up one of the glasses, eyes rising to the ceiling with a sigh. "When you're responsible for helping to run a kingdom as unpredictable as the O.Z., there's really few other ways to unwind from that kind of stress. Now drink up, boys!"_

* * *

Yinn's idea of packing for travel consisted of filling up the pockets of his thick brown coat, and lacing a few brown pouches along the loop of his belt. A small pack was strapped to his back, Yinn adjusting the straps to fit. Ambrose eyed his own cases, feeling self-conscious. "Are you sure that's all you want to take?"

"Yes." Yinn nodded, before reaching to the side of the door, taking up the tall walking stick that Ambrose knew his grandfather had used to move around the house with when the weather was bad. There were some trinkets dangling from the top of it which Ambrose did not recognize. He made a mental note to ask about them later. Right now, he was giving Yinn some space, allowing the young man to make peace with leaving the home that he'd lived in all his life. They walked outside, Ambrose moving to stand by the roadside while Yinn secured the door shut. He watched as Yinn paused by the tombstone of his grandfather, touching it in a gesture of parting.

Then Yinn was ready to go, his stick thumping steadily on the ground as the young man walked over to join him. "I'm ready. Which direction are we going from here?"

"It's a full day's walk from here, heading back towards Central City. The house isn't too far from the fields there." Ambrose explained, as he began to walk along the dirt path, guiding the young man towards the south. "It was my grandfather's house. I came to stay with him after my parents had died."

"If you don't mind my asking, how did they die?" Yinn asked respectfully, seeming intrigued with learning more information about this man who had been such a stranger and yet such a friend.

"Ah.. Well, I was very small when it happened." Ambrose's voice was quiet. "I don't remember the exact circumstances myself, but my grandfather told me that they died when their carriage flipped over the edge of a ravine. They'd been stopped by some soldiers at a post who were searching for black market traders along that route. I guess one of the soldiers did something which spooked the horses." He shrugged, eyes scanning the wilderness around them. "It was an unfortunate accident. My grandfather took over my care shortly thereafter."

"Forgive my observations, but you do not speak of your grandfather as if you were fond of him."

"In a way, I suppose I am. We didn't have the sort of relationship that you and your grandfather did. He loved his inventions more than anything else, and left little room to love things that fell outside of that category. Like me." Ambrose smiled faintly, aware that Yinn was listening intently. "Not that I resent him for it. We were just strangers to each other. I suppose that I picked up many traces of his personality over time, becoming enamored of machines instead of other people. He encouraged me to pursue science, to sharpen my intellect as much as possible, and to strive for a future beyond limitations. I'm grateful for that."

Yinn thought about the words, the two of them going quiet for a good part of their walk. That was fine by Ambrose, since the talk had left him swimming in memories. It struck him abruptly that he had not told Cain much about his past. Of course, the law man had never bothered to ask, so the subject never came around. Somehow, realizing that made him melancholy, even as it gave him more determination to carry through with his plan to leave Cain in peace to resolve his issues.

Eventually, Yinn began to sing under his breath as they walked, filling the silence with a language that Ambrose did not know -- linguistics expert that he thought himself to be. He tried to identify the words without any success, but did not want for Yinn to stop singing. Ambrose figured that it was probably the language of Yinn's family from the Otherside. Yinn's singing was soothing the chaos of his brain, like the young man's tea had soothed his muscles.

He reflected upon Cain, and their quirky relationship, which consisted of arguing just as much as it consisted of sex. Ambrose wondered if that was how things were supposed to be. Though he certainly never saw the Queen and Ahamo argue. Jeb and DG seemed to get along just fine. So was the fact that he and Cain argued so much proof that their relationship wasn't going to work?

"What has you frowning like that, Ambrose?"

Yinn snared his attention, Ambrose blinking over to the young man. "Hm? Oh. I was just thinking about one of my dearest friends. He and I are going through an ... awkward time right now. Cain was one of the people who helped me to get my brain back. You'll meet him when we get to Central City."

"You miss him. I can tell, by the way you looked when you just talked about him. He is very important to you, isn't he?" Yinn asked, once again impressing Ambrose with his insight. This kid was as good as a Viewer!

"Cain? Yes. Yes, he is." Ambrose sighed faintly.

Yinn nodded sagely. "You're in love with him."

It was a statement, not a question. Ambrose gaped over at him, turning pink. "What? How did you know? Am I that transparent?"

"No, it was just a guess." Yinn grinned, winking over at him. "You could have denied it, and I would have believed you."

"Crafty little one, aren't you?" The advisor said darkly upon finding that he'd been successfully tricked into revealing the answer. "Yes, I do. That's that reason for our 'awkward' time. He hasn't quite figured out exactly what his feelings are on the matter, I believe. I'm not confident that he will. So I intend to use this time traveling back home to prepare myself for either outcome, when he finally decides what he's going to do."

"Hearts are difficult to figure out." Yinn murmured, lifting his stick up to push aside a few low-hanging branches. "Sometimes it takes a minute, other times it takes a lifetime. I am sure that things will work themselves out, in the end."

"I hope so." Ambrose said quietly. "If not, well... I might die of embarassment. Promise me to make my funeral elegant if that happens, okay?"

"I'll try my best."


	4. Chapter 4

The old mansion looked just as he had left it.

Ambrose and Yinn came to a stop in the shadow of the sprawling structure, the advisor looking upon the old house with a melancholy gaze. Yinn was openly curious, gaping open mouthed once he realized that this was their destination. "This is your old home, Ambrose? It's.. huge!"

"My grandfather needed plenty of space." The advisor said, letting himself drink in the sight of the familiar place. "It was much smaller at first, yet when he began to expand his operations, he had some additions built into the house to accommodate his needs."

"How are we going to get in? There are metal plates over everything."

Sure enough, the front door of the mansion and all of the windows were covered by what appeared to be metal plates. Ambrose could see a trace of a burn on the plate blocking the door, only able to assume that someone must have come along and tried to melt their way through with some heating device. He nodded. "They're there for security. Grandfather installed them during one of the first Great Wars of the O.Z., to keep invaders from trying to get in. Nothing will remove them but the password."

He approached the archway, coming to stand in front of the plated door. As Yinn looked on, Ambrose slid his fingers lightly down the metal surface, before the tips of his fingers sank into some tiny indentation. A small panel of the plate slid open to unveil a small block of letters assorted randomly together. Ambrose put his left hand over the top of the letters, fingers dancing as he pressed them one at a time. "Saladin. Paracelsus. Lambertine. Evagne. Smith."

"What does that stand for?" Yinn asked.

Ambrose chuckled. "Distant relation. Hold on." Quickly drawing back his hand, the advisor urged Yinn back down off the porch, putting some distance between them and the house as the system began to respond to the inputted password. The metal plates began to draw back from the windows around the mansion, hinges having been hidden that let them fold together at either side. It happened with the front door as well, the metal segments coming to rest at either side of the archway.

Yinn laughed in amazement, watching the spectacle. "That was an amazing trick! Are you sure that your grandfather was not a mystic?"

"No." Ambrose shook his head, picking his cases back up as he strode towards the door. "We're not a magic sort of family. We can't do magic -- but we can make it. Scientists just use a different method to get the same result."

"I am humbled by your science. It is very fascinating to me."

Ambrose pushed open the front door, finding the air inside to be stagnant from lack of circulation. He walked in slowly, eyes looking everywhere around him, touched immediately with a sense of nostalgia as he said softly, "Mind that you don't step on the black square there. It's another security device."

Yinn jumped far away from that indicated square, having been about to approach it in his curiosity. The young man then moved close to Ambrose, lingering near the man's elbow as if he thought it would be safer to keep nearby. "What is it that you came here for, Ambrose?"

"Some momentos that I left behind." The advisor answered as they walked further into the parlor. "Things that weren't important to me the first time I left here. Things that I find myself wanting, now that my heart is a little warmer than it used to be."

Ambrose set his cases down, kneeling as he opened them both up. One of them was full with his clothes which he had brought for the journey. The other one was empty, aside from a few of his work tools. "I was going to bring more cases so that I could transport everything, but Cain wouldn't let me. I'll have to fit it all in these."

"I'll help you carry whatever you need." Yinn promised him, sliding his pack off his shoulders to the floor. "Where do we begin?"

"The lab." Ambrose murmured, before rising to lead the young man down a dark corridor nearby, in the direction of his grandfather's old work room.

* * *

"Wow..."

Yinn stopped inside of the opened door, eyes wide as he tried to capture the scope of the laboratory. It stretched up two full stories of the house itself, with ladders and a spiral staircase leading up to a second landing high over their heads. There were no walls here, though this must have taken up an entire wing, only support posts here and there to keep the structure sound.

Ambrose was not affected by any sense of wonder, it seemed. He moved forward without measuring the place too much, quite deliberate in where he was going. The advisor hurried up the staircase for that second level. When he spoke down to Yinn, his voice echoed many times over in the wide space. "This was my grandfather's lab, library, study and living space. Much of his research is still here. I hope to take it back with me to Central, to see if there aren't some useful bits. Feel free to walk around while I grab them -- just try not to touch anything."

"Okay!" Yinn shouted up, wincing at the distortion the space gave his voice. He watched Ambrose step onto the second level, beginning to search through the tall bookshelves that were built into the walls overhead. Then, looking away, Yinn moved cautiously forward, too curious to remain in one spot, considering the sheer oddity of this room.

There were large mysterious mounds hidden underneath large cloths, giving tantalizing glimpses of some scientific monstrosity. Models of strange things dangled from the ceiling, Yinn ducking carefully down under them as he passed by. Beneath the web of dust which coated everything, he saw little metal devices placed here and there, not able to judge if they were completed bits, or unfinished projects, complex as they were.

Yinn caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Frowning, he moved in that direction, after a backward glance confirmed to him that Ambrose was still up the stairs. He moved soundlessly forward, prowling to try and catch sight of whatever that had been. Yinn tensed himself while behind the mass of one of the veiled machines, then jumped forward to try and catch it unawares.

It was only his reflection in a large mirror fixed to the wall. He let out a breath, smiling sheepishly at having been tricked by the illusion of his own movements. Yinn shook his head, his reflection mimicking the action, as he said to himself, "Jumping at your own shadow, fool."

He turned away from the mirror with a smirk, only to find himself eye to lense with some machine that had come to stand beside him. The pair of lenses were glowing red, which probably wasn't a good sign, as a metallic voice shrilled out of it, "Warning! Warning! Intruder!"

Yinn leapt backwards as two metallic arms swung up from either side of its body, the machine's three fingers pinching at the air to try and capture him. Backing up quickly, Yinn stared at the thing in alarm. It was repeating itself, louder now, as it began to roll towards him on small wheels underneath the bulk of its body. "Warning! Intruder! Warning!"

"Ambrose?!" Yinn wasted no more time, turning to flee back in the direction of the other man. He heard the advisor's steps coming hurriedly back down the stairs, running quickly towards that sound. A glance over his shoulder showed Yinn that the robot was giving chase, those red eyes glowing brightly, those grippers clapping open and shut in front of it. "Intruder! Warning!"

Yinn was relieved when Ambrose stepped into sight, the dark-haired man placing the stack of books in his arms down on the floor as Yinn ran up to him. The young man came to hide behind Ambrose, looking around him to the robot that was now rolling up to the both of them. "Intruders! Warning! Mansion Under Attack! Intruders!"

Ambrose snorted as the robot began to reach for him. One of his hands swung up, swatting the machine underneath those glowing red eyes, across its metallic nose. The robot's head dropped slightly forward, those reaching arms now coming up to its nose, as it droned out. "Ouch."

"Faulty hunk of junk. I'm not an intruder. It's me, Ambrose." The inventor glared at the robot.

"Master?" Red eyes shifted to the color of yellow, as the robot looked back up to the glowering man. "Identified: Ambrose Oswin Andersen, Master. Welcome Home, Master."

"Just call me 'Ambrose', please." The man pleaded, turning to gesture at Yinn. "This is my guest, Yinn. Apologize for scaring him like that."

The robot rolled back on its wheels, turning in sharp angles as it wheeled its way over behind Yinn, both metal arms swinging up again, in something like an embrace of the young man's legs. It hung its head again, droning out, "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry."

Yinn looked uncomfortably over towards Ambrose as he found himself getting hugged by a robot. The advisor shrugged dismissively, before addressing the machine again. "Could you kindly assist us? I am gathering some of Grandfather's books to take back to my new home."

"Grandfather. Identified: Garland Gail Andersen. Affirmative." The robot pinched the books on the floor in one hand, stacking them up to balance on an arm for transport. "Command: Assist Master Ambrose, Guest Yinn. Acknowledged. Beginning Mansion Staff Program."

"No, no." Ambrose shook his head, hands waving in the air in front of him. "I don't need the whole house being woken up. You can help us just fi--" He sighed, hands dropping to his sides as there were sounds all throughout the house, echoing mechanical voices coming from all directions.

"Systems Online."

Yinn gave Ambrose a questioning look, the advisor's face wryly miserable. "Well. Looks like you're going to meet the staff, Yinn. I apologize in advance."

* * *

The one set of tracks quickly turned into two. Cain was confused by this, wondering who might have joined Ambrose. He'd initially thought that perhaps someone might have kidnapped the advisor, but the tracks told him otherwise. It was Ambrose's usual careless walk. They were heading back towards the south.

Cain touched his fingers to one of Ambrose's footprints there in the soil, frowning to himself. The headcase had eluded him yet again. However, it did not seem that he had been walking as hurriedly this time, considering the length of the strides between those prints. Ambrose was finally moving at a reasonable pace. It would be easier for Cain to catch up to him now.

The law man rose up from where he'd been kneeling, duster sweeping around his legs as he twisted in the direction of the tracks. Cain paused as he caught sight of a small wooden board, a grave marker, just to the side of the abandoned cabin. Blue eyes studied it, remembering when he had come upon the one with Adora's name etched into the wood. He shook his head quickly to scatter that line of thought. It was Ambrose that he needed to find, and shake some sense into the headcase.

* * *

"Grandfather was rather adamant about not having people in the house." Ambrose explained with a grunt, as he stretched up on the toes of his shoes to unlodge one of the smaller robotic creatures from where it had wedged itself into the chandalier in the entryway. He shook it a few times, so that its tiny wings spread back out, before the mechanic creature went sputtering off through the air. "So he had an entire staff of machines which he had built himself. He figured that they would bother him less than humans would, asking questions about his work and such. They're nowhere near as impressive as the Milltown residents, but they were good for the technology of their time."

Yinn looked over at the other man from within a circle of the service robots which matched the one who had surprised them in the laboratory. "How many of these things are there?"

"A dozen or so." Ambrose waved the robots back away from where they had clustered around Yinn, snapping out at them, "He doesn't need anything right now, for the second time! Go clean something!"

Five robots responded with a chorus of "Affirmative", before they spun around to wheel themselves into opposite directions. Ambrose suddenly felt incredibly weary of this idea. "There are six of the service 'bots, which you saw. Three of the flying ones, mostly designed for dusting cobwebs and washing windows."

"What about the other three?" Yinn asked, when the other man had turned away without telling him about the others.

Ambrose was reluctant to answer, glancing to Yinn over his shoulder. "Well.. Hopefully the service 'bot didn't engage their programming. They were difficult to handle, if I remember right. Come upstairs with me."

Yinn did not need to be asked twice. He wasn't going to be left alone in this house of bizarre creatures. The last thing he needed was to start getting hugged again by all of them. Yinn hurried up behind Ambrose, the two of them heading up the winding white stairwell to the second story of the residential section of the mansion. Ambrose backtracked a few times along the corridors, as though he'd forgotten where he was going, which made Yinn a little nervous. The last thing they needed was to get lost in here.

Ambrose finally pushed open a door, smiling faintly. "Ah ha. Here it is."

They came into a room that was full of boxes from floor to ceiling, stacked neatly. Each was labeled with careful black letters, but Yinn couldn't decipher what the code of them meant. Ambrose seemed to understand what the cryptic words meant, his finger sliding down over each of the boxes in search of the one he'd been trying to find. Hovering in front of one particular box, he nodded. "Help me get this one out. We'll have to take the upper boxes down to get to it."

"How are we going to do that? It is far too high to reach them without some kind of ladder." Yinn pointed out, frowning up at the box wedged against the ceiling. There was at least four feet between them.

"Good question." Ambrose sighed, dropping his head defeatedly. "I guess there's no avoiding it. I'm going to have to wake up Yonsil. He's the only one tall enough to reach. You stay here, and I'll be right back." The advisor headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. He considered it, then gestured towards the lock. "You might want to secure this behind me, or else the service 'bots will find their way up here through the Bot Elevation Tubes."

Yinn hurriedly turned the lock as soon as the door was shut, blowing out a deep breath. What had he gotten himself into?

The room was eerily quiet, Yinn able to hear only the sounds of his breath as he stood there waiting for Ambrose to return with 'Yonsil', whatever that was. It was unnerving him, all this silence. He was used to at least hearing the sounds of the wilderness outside, but this room had no windows. Yinn heard some of the mechanical robots wheeling past the door, glad that he'd taken Ambrose's suggestion to lock it.

He was startled when there was abruptly a knock on the door. Yinn shot up to his feet, figuring that it was Ambrose returning from his task. Releasing the lock, the young man cracked open the door to peer outside. "Ambrose?"

There was no one standing outside in the hallway. Yinn frowned to discover that, opening the door a bit further as he stuck his head out to look left and right down the corridor. He knew that he hadn't imagined the knock. So what had caused it?

A soft whirring noises sounded from above his head. Swallowing thickly, Yinn reluctantly lifted his eyes up towards the ceiling. At that instant, something dropped from above, landing on his head. Yinn gave a hoarse cry of alarm, scrambling backwards as he reached desperately for it, prying it from the top of his head.

The little robot was no bigger than his shoe, its spindly little limbs flailing like a trapped insect where it found itself being held between Yinn's hands. Then it began to speak, a loud shrill sound, in some language that the young man couldn't comprehend. "_Le chat mange un poisson_!_ Usted cerraría por favor la ventana_?"

Yinn felt his face twisting in fear and confusion, dropping the robot onto the floor in front of him as he went to retreat back into the room. The only thing that stopped him was when he heard a woman's voice speaking.

"You should be careful about throwing him. He's more delicate than he seems."

Turning, Yinn looked in the direction of the voice, blinking in amazement.

A woman had come around the corner. He did not think that anyone else had been inside the house! She looked like something out of a painting. Her face was very delicate, beautiful in a fey sort of way. Yinn saw that her hair shimmered like gold where it was swept up into ornate hairpins, ringlets falling down over the woman's shoulders, caressing the burgundy velvet of a fine period dress that reminded him of how Ambrose dressed. As Yinn watched, she bent down to where the little robot was on the floor, picking it up carefully.

"Do you live here? I came here with Ambrose -- he didn't tell me that anyone else would be around."

"Master Ambrose brought you? He is here, then?" She rose, her movements seeming stiff, as if she were unused to making them. Her head tilted to the side with a soft jerk, as she absently brushed the small robot off. "That would explain the commotion. What is your name?"

"I'm Yinn." He gestured to himself, watching her curiously. While she was pretty, there was something strange about her manner. Her voice was pleasant, but it lacked any sort of vitality.

"Yinn. Welcome to our home." She responded, nodding formally. The robot was held up in her hands, its limbs dangling. "You have met Gidget, I see. Gidget was constructed to educate Master Ambrose. He is too curious for his own good at times."

The robot in her hands twitched at her words. "_Amerei un'altra fetta della torta_."

Yinn smiled faintly. "And what is your name, dear lady?"

Her green eyes blinked at him twice, before focusing directly back upon Yinn. "I am Anasia. I was created by Master Garland."

"Wait -- you're a robot?"

He studied her more closely, trying to see if this were true. Upon closer examination, Yinn saw that her green eyes were indeed false, blinking rhythmically in the mockery of human behavior. There were no lines on her face to indicate age. And the reason that her hair was shining like gold was because it WAS gold -- fine strands of it. Her jerky motions became more apparent to him now that he knew the truth, her head cocking sharply back the other direction. "Affirmative. Does this displease you, Guest Yinn?"

"Well, I mean.. no. You can't help that you're a robot." Yinn couldn't take his eyes off of her, astonished.

"Ah. I see that you've met the other two." Ambrose spoke up from further down the hallway, coming up to where Yinn and Anasia stood. The advisor smiled faintly as he glanced to the robot woman, saying quietly, "Hello, Anasia. You're looking well."

"Master Ambrose. Thank you." Anasia's head bowed, lady-like. "I came to collect Gidget. He was curious about Guest Yinn."

"_Können Sie mich auf die Bibliothek verweisen_?" The little robot spouted.

"I'll bet." Ambrose murmured sheepishly, as he jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. "Sorry it took so long, but Yonsil here was hiding a bit too well."

Yinn looked in that direction, seeing quite a sight coming down the hallway behind Ambrose. This creature was made up entirely of spindly limbs, like some metal spider crawling down the hallway on four legs. Once it reached where they stood, it unfurled up from those front legs, straightening to its full height, which had its metal head bent at an awkward angle from the ceiling, despite that Yinn estimated them to be about fourteen feet high. "Where is this box of yours, Big Nose?"

"Ambrose." The inventor said at a growl. Apparently this was not the first time the robot had addressed him by that other name. "My name is Ambrose. If you can't say it, then just settle for 'Hey, You', or something at least more dignified than a reference to my prominent feature." He reached up to touch his nose with a frown.

Yonsil blinked in a way that indicated to Yinn that the robot creature wasn't phased. Ambrose sighed, gesturing into the storage room. "Please unstack the boxes in the middle row on the left side of the room for me. I have something I need to get out of them."

They all watched as the mechanical beast named Yonsil scrabbled into the room to carry out Ambrose's order. The robot placed the boxes carefully down on the floor, including the one which the inventor had been hoping to access. His head spun competely around to look at them, yellow eyes blinking. "That is what you wanted, yes?"

"Yes, thank you." Ambrose nodded politely, stepping back into the room. Yinn did not think that there would be much room, considering how much space the machine took up. He saw Yonsil contorting the joints of his body, bending back into that spidery shape. Then the machine was scaling up the walls, limbs spread out where the machine loomed over them from the ceiling. It made Yinn incredibly nervous to go inside, despite the fact that Ambrose seemed unbothered.

The inventor knelt down on the floor beside the box, carefully pulling off the top of it. He peered down into the opening, Yinn seeing him smile sweetly at whatever was within. That won over the young man's curiosity, and he came in, with a few upward glances to the robot hanging above his head. "What do you have there, Ambrose?"

"These things belonged to my mother." The man answered quietly, as he reached into the box, touching his fingers carefully to the contents. Yinn was able to see a variety of items inside, some small trinkets and combs, little painted portraits, and what appeared to be a few folded dresses. Ambrose had pulled up the corner of one of those garments, drawing it close to his face in order to touch his cheek to the fabric. "I can't believe that I actually left them behind when I left. Seems criminal now."

Yinn gingerly picked up one of the tiny portraits, studying the face of the woman in the picture. Something about her looked familiar. He looked away from the little picture towards where Anasia stood nearby, the robotic woman seeming unbothered by being forgotten in their distraction. "Hey.. This woman looks like Anasia."

"Actually, Anasia looks like this woman." Ambrose corrected him, angling his head to eye the portrait. "That's a portrait of my mother. Grandfather designed Anasia in her image. It was his most thoughtful present to me. Anasia was built to be a caretaker, companion, friend. He made her to look like my mother, in order to make her familiar to me."

"That was very nice of him." Yinn remarked, as he placed the picture back into the box.

Ambrose shrugged. "I suppose. It was an effort for him to compensate for everything that he wasn't willing to provide me." One of the service robots came wheeling into the room, Ambrose gesturing to the box. "Kindly take this downstairs. I will be taking it with me."

"Affirmitive." The robot responded, before it gripped hold of the box, wheeling it away balanced upon its uplifted arms.

"Anything else?" Yinn looked around them, wondering what else Ambrose might need.

"I can't think of anything. The things from my grandfather's lab, the box with my mother's things -- that should about cover it. Everything else I can leave here for safekeeping."

They left the room together, heading for the stairs. Anasia was walking silently behind them, with tiny Gidget still in her hands. It made Yinn keep glancing back towards her. At least Yonsil had remained behind. The oversized creature creeped him out considerably.

Downstairs, they heard a sudden cocaphony of noise, as a chorus of robotic voices began to shriek out. "Intruder! Intruder! Mansion under attack! Intruder!"

Ambrose scowled, stopping at the top of the stairs. "What in nine hells are they carrying on about now?"

Yinn shook his head quickly, before they heard a few sharp pops from down in the entryway. One of those robotic voices lurched to silence. The young man tensed himself, prepared to go down there and begin fighting. At his side, though, Ambrose sighed in frustration.

"Cain."

* * *

Out of all the scenarios Cain had anticipated upon locating the advisor, this definitely fell beyond his scope of imagining. The law man had followed the tracks right in through the front door of the sprawling mansion, and had let himself in. He had been able to confirm that Ambrose was here because of the familiar luggage cases opened up on the floor. "Ambrose?"

His voice ricocheted back to him from all directions of the silent place. There was no immediate answer. Cain frowned to himself, looking to the corridors and stairwell that wound up from his spot, wondering which direction he should go to start finding Ambrose. Judging by how big the place looked from the outside, Cain thought that it would be easy for him to get lost. So he decided to wait for Ambrose to return for his luggage.

Then the _things_ came. The robot things, with their glowing red eyes and piercing voices. "Intruder! Intruder!"

Cain retreated back a few steps as they approached him, counting four of these wicked looking beasts. He could only guess that these things were attacking. Reaching to his holster, the law man swept out his gun, firing a couple bullets into one of the closer robots. It jerked to a stop, sparks flying out of it where the rounds had pierced. These things were fortunately not impervious to bullets, for which Cain was very thankful.

He prepared to fire off a couple more bullets into another one before a familiar voice shouted at him over the noise of the shrieking robots. "Cain! Stop shooting my robots! Robots! Cease offense!"

The robots immediately stopped, their arms dropping to their sides. Cain's blue eyes blinked at them, not having expected that to work. He then turned his head towards the stairs, to find an angry brunette glaring down at him. Ambrose had his hands planted on his hips, a man that Cain did not recognize standing beside him, and some other pretty blond behind the pair.

"That's one heck a greeting, Ambrose." Cain managed, before holstering his gun. "You normally send these things to welcome guests?"

"Only the unwelcome ones." The man snapped, as he came down the stairs. Cain saw that the other two stayed behind, allowing Ambrose to approach the blond all by himself. The advisor glowered up to Cain when he stopped in front of the tin man. "I thought that I told you not to follow me."

"I figured that you were just being dramatic. Or idiotic." Shrugging, Cain met that glower with his own. "What possessed you to go running off like that? You could have gotten hurt, or kidnapped, or eaten by wild beasts in the forest."

"Believe it or not, Mister Cain, I can take care of myself just fine." Ambrose turned slightly, waving a hand towards the stairs. The young man blinked, before heading in their direction. Cain eyed the man with a frown. What was Ambrose doing with him? He watched as the advisor put a hand on the young man's shoulder, comfortably easy, which Cain did not like at all. His mind whispered to him that he should pull his gun out again. Cain tried to ignore the urge.

"Cain, this is Yinn. Yinn, this is Cain." The advisor muttered, introducing them without much enthusiasm, considering that he was still mad at Cain. "Yinn, why don't you give Cain here a _proper_ introduction?"

The one called Yinn arched an eyebrow towards Ambrose, before taking measure of Cain with his slanted eyes. "This is the friend that you are having the awkward time with, right?"

"Yes." Ambrose nodded, before turning away from the pair with a frown.

Suddenly, the law man wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Yinn's 'proper introduction' involved. There was no time for him to ask, however, as Cain found his right arm being snatched up in the young man's hands. He blinked in surprise as he found himself being rolled forward, flipped over the man's left hip in one smooth move. Cain hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him, as he grunted in pain.

Ambrose and Yinn peered down at the blond on the floor, the advisor nodding in satisfaction. "That'll do. If you can't guess from this demonstration, Cain, Yinn is the one who taught me those nifty little fighting skills from my wandering days."

Cain grated out. "Oh, kid. You don't know how bad I _owe_ you for teaching him that stuff.."

Once Cain was able to get himself up off the floor, he snatched hold of Ambrose's arm, dragging the inventor towards the opened door of the mansion. Yinn watched them go, as he decided that it was probably best not to involve himself in their dispute.

Ambrose was stubbornly dragging his feet the entire time, though Cain's strength proved more effective. He released the advisor once they were outside, not wanting to stay in there where maniacal robots might attack. "We need to talk, you and I."

"Why? I think that I made myself rather clear in my letter."

"Because you didn't give me a chance to defend myself. You should have stayed, so we could have had this talk back in the cabin, instead of me having to track you clear across this side of the realm."

Ambrose shook his head. "I couldn't stay there. How do you think it felt to me, being in your old home, with all your memories distracting you? You need to work it out without my interference, Cain. I know better than most what it's like to be overwhelmed by memories."

The law man sighed, lifting his hands up into the air. "Would you just shut up for a minute, Ambrose, and let me talk?"

His demand had the advisor glaring at him, but at least Ambrose went silent. Cain shuffled his feet around on the ground, squinting up into the sky as he composed his thoughts. "Look, no one ever said that this was going to be easy. You and I, we're trying to figure out who we are, now that our lives have begun again. It's going to be complicated. Yes, we're going to argue. Yes, we are both going to occasionally be unable to stand each other. But the way I see it, we have two ways that we can go."

"What ways are those?" Ambrose asked quietly, not having heard Cain speak half this much in one breath before. It made him interested in what the tin man had to say.

"Either we can continue as we are, stumbling over each other as we go, or we can take the steps that we need to in order to get past all these problems. You told me that you wanted to wait for me to make a decision -- well, here I am, Ambrose. I left that cabin and came running after you. I could have stayed there, but for some stupid reason I decided that memories weren't half as important to me as a pain-in-the-ass former zipperhead. So I made my decision. I took that step forward. Now.. are you going to do the same, and accept the fact that you're stuck with a man who can't completely forget his past, or did I just waste a trip?"

The advisor blinked at him, speechless. Ambrose shook himself in order to recovery, breathing out, "I don't think I've ever heard you give such a long speech before, Cain."

"You never let me get a word in." Cain pointed out. "So, what's your answer, Ambrose?"

"I'm just not used to all of this, Cain. This.. this..." He trailed off, words failing him for a change, hand gesturing through the air as he tried to search for what he meant.

"This 'being in love' thing?" Cain prompted him, an eyebrow raising.

"Yes." Ambrose nodded, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. "It's more complicated than I thought it would be. I can design an entire mechanical empire, realign the moons and stars, probably even raise the dead if I commited to the project, but I am scared to death about how to handle being in love with someone." A hand raised to his hair, tangling through his curls.

"It's not like you're alone in this, Ambrose. We're kind of in this together." Cain gestured between the two of them.

"I know that. I just.." He just what? What was it that he was trying to say? Ambrose thought about what as at the core of the issue, in order to bring that up and make himself sound more justified in his concerns. He quickly came up with something. "Like, for example? DG and Jeb are getting married, and I'm confident that they started things a while after we did, but you haven't even.. I mean, you haven't even told me.." Ambrose shook his head, losing his nerve. "Nevermind. You're right, Cain. I'm being unreasonably difficult about all of this. I promise that I will try to let it go."

Cain mumbled something unintelligible, eyes dropping to the tops of his boots as he scuffed one of them against the grass. That made the advisor frown, leaning closer. "What was that?"

"I said 'I love you'." The law man repeated gruffly, blue eyes peeking up at the other man from under the shadow of his hat. "You're difficult, dramatic, stubborn, impetuous, absolutely crazy, hopelessly careless on occasion, and most of the time I can't figure out whether I want to strangle you or shut up that mouth with a kiss, but I love you."

Ambrose drew himself up, trying not to look too offended by Cain's analysis of his character, as he muttered sourly. "Yes, well.. You're difficult, stubborn, inelegant, mean, stoic at the worst times, annoying at others, and half the time I can't decide if I want to break your ribs or tear your clothes off, but I love you, too."

"Then have we settled this?" Cain asked tentatively.

The advisor nodded, mouth shaping a bright smile. "I think we have, Mister Cain. Now let's get back to the business of gathering my things so that we can get out of here."

"What about the cabin? I'll need to return there in order to get the work done on it."

They started to walk back into the house together, shoulders brushing, as Ambrose was reminded of the tin man's project at his old home. The advisor brought a hand up to his chin as he thought on that matter, before saying lightly, "Well.. It just so happens that I might have an idea on how to get your cabin fixed up while we return to Central."

"How?" Cain looked to the other man, watching as Ambrose's face split into a grin. He followed the line of the man's gaze, to where the robots were clustered around Yinn, waiting for commands. The law man snorted. "Yeah. I think giving these things something to do would be a far better solution."


	5. Chapter 5

I finally got it done! Been struggling with writer's block, and managed to pull this off after a few Livejournal drabbles.

I still own nothing. Unless you're selling these guys, in which case I am definitely buying!

* * *

The problem arose: How were they going to transport a caravan of robots from Ambrose's mansion to Cain's cabin? Fortunately, the advisor happily volunteered to formulate a solution. They all gathered back in the laboratory, either on two legs or two wheels, to cluster around the chalkboards which Ambrose unveiled with a flourish of dusty curtains. He took up a piece of chalk and began to scribble, fragments of some bizarre scientific code appearing across the surface, clearly inspired.

Cain and Yinn looked at each other, trying to gauge if the other had any clue as to what Ambrose's advanced logic meant. Not that their lack of understanding phased the inventor in the least. The advisor was mumbling to himself as he filled up the board, the pair able to hear clips of words whenever Ambrose's volume increased. "..Robots.. ..No, no.. ...Wildfire!... ..Oven..?"

After five minutes of the man carrying on, Cain finally spoke up. "Ambrose? You come up with something yet?"

"Indeed!" The man swept over the board one last time with his chalk, beaming proudly to himself. Ambrose's expression was positively smug when he turned back to the pair, a dusty finger pointing to the schematic on the board. "I just figured out how to make that self-cooking oven that I was developing operate! It's been bothering me for months. Ha!" Placing the chalk down, Ambrose brushed his hands together, accomplished.

Yinn reached both hands up, massaging at his temples. Cain recognized that gesture from his own history with the former headcase. It was good to see that the Glitch Experience effected everyone universally. The tin man was impressed by how patient the young man remained, as he said pleasantly. "Congratulations, Ambrose. But how does that solve the issue of getting the robots to Mister Cain's cabin?"

"Oh, that?" Ambrose quirked an eyebrow, before waving a hand airily towards the depths of the lab. "I just figured that we could put them in Grandfather's car and drive along the trail. That should put us within half a day's walk to Cain's cabin -- they should be able to manage the terrain beyond that point just fine."

"Car?" Cain eyed the advisor dubiously, before turning in the direction that the man pointed. He saw a large mound covered in one of those cloths, and he headed over with Yinn trailing along behind. Ambrose paid them little attention, as he took out a small pad of paper from the inside of his jacket pocket, in order to copy down what he'd written on the board.

The tin man gripped one side of the cloth, nodding Yinn towards the opposite end. "You grab that side, kid. Let's get a look at this thing."

Working together, they managed to uncover the automobile, an intimidatingly big silver vehicle. It reminded Cain of the long cars used by the palace, just as fancy as that variety, even complete with the tiny silver appointments. The tin man let out a low whistle, impressed. "This is yours, Ambrose?"

"You bet." The advisor had finally come over to join them, looking at the car with a satisfied nod. He grinned over to the blond, arms crossing. "Didn't I mention the fact that I am considered filthy rich? Perhaps the size of the house wasn't hint enough?" Ambrose's arms unfolded as he reached down, brushing off a few specks of dust from the windshield.

"Well, I mean.. I figured that you weren't hurting in the pocketbook," Cain confessed, eyes roaming up and down the length of the car, "but I didn't know that you were THIS well off. Makes my old salary as a tin man seem pretty paltry in comparison."

Ambrose patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I've rather grown accustomed to living more simplistically. I would take your cabin over all this empty space any day." He turned, waving the group forward. "Yinn and Robots, into the car. Cain, go get my luggage."

Cain scowled. "What? Why do I have to go get your luggage?"

"I have all these robots to fit inside this car. You think it's going to be easy? Besides, everyone knows that you like doing the 'manly' stuff." Ambrose was flagging him away with both arms.

The tin man considered putting up an argument. Let the advisor get his own luggage! Cain determinedly lingered in his spot for another minute, watching Ambrose get the doors of the car opened. Then the advisor paused and quirked an eyebrow at the blond. Cain twitched, sighed defeatedly, and went to go get the luggage, wondering exactly when he had let himself start getting cowed by the other man.

* * *

Yinn volunteered to stay with the car once they had reached the point where they could drive no further. The young man got himself comfortable in the plush seats of the back while Cain and Ambrose got the robotic cargo unloaded. Anasia walked gracefully along behind them, fortunate enough to have legs instead of wheels. Cain was rather amused to find that Ambrose was handling the terrain with less ease, tripping over stumps at random intervals. They had to stop to unwedge the robots now and then, but mainly found that the trip wasn't so difficult.

Cain's cabin was just as they had left it, in the process of being repaired. Ambrose's hand shovel was still sticking out of a mound in the garden. The inventor approached the cabin with less hesitation than before, looking around them to evaluate the tasks that still needed to be completed. "Okay, robots. Stand at attention!"

The service robots, minus the one Cain had shot, rolled together to stand in a perfect line. They even saluted with one arm each. Ambrose walked back and forth in front of them, hands clasped behind his back, officious in manner. "Robots: Initialize Custom Program Function. New Specified Location -- Cain's cabin. Task -- clean, repair and maintain Cain's cabin. Understood?"

"Affirmitive!" Chorused back to him, before the service robots began wheeling around the area to begin carrying out their orders.

Ambrose smiled to himself. "Why do the labor when the labor can be done for you? This is far more ideal." He walked over to where Cain stood, the tin man nervously watching the mechanical creatures moving around his cabin. Anasia lingered nearby, and Ambrose addressed her directly. "Anasia, I am leaving you in charge of things here. Please make certain that the service robots stay on task. I would like the work to be completed within at least two moon cycles."

"Affirmative." The robotic woman responded, curtseying to the advisor. "Any other orders that I should be expected to carry out, Master Ambrose?"

"Just one." Ambrose murmured, glancing towards Cain before pointing to the iron suit sagging in the front lawn. "I want that thing put somewhere that Cain and I will never have to see it again. Think you can handle it?"

Anasia turned towards the suit. "Affirmative."

Cain's face grew tense as his old prison was brought up, eyes following along after the robotic woman as Anasia approached the opened suit. He saw her bend forward in order to examine it, before her delicate hands took hold of the metal in two places. It had taken three men to carry that suit. In one motion, that petite woman had yanked it up out of the ground. Cain blinked in surprise as he watched Anasia lift it up over her head. Even Ambrose looked impressed. "I didn't know she was that strong.. I figured a few of the robots would help her."

He snatched hold of Cain's sleeve, dragging the tin man out of the way as Anasia went walking past them with the iron suit suspended over her head. The blond blinked slowly. "Is she doing what I think she's doing?"

"I think so.."

Both of the men blinked as the robotic woman walked out onto the small fishing pier on the edge of the lake beside Cain's home. Anasia threw it out towards the water as if it weighed no more than a small rock, a giant splash of water rippling through the lake. It bobbed a few times, before the water consumed it, sinking the heavy iron down out of sight. Ambrose cleared his throat, clapping lightly. "Uh, well done, Anasia. Well done."

"You didn't have to have her do that." Cain murmured, drawing the advisor's attention away from where Anasia was walking back from the lake in the direction of the cabin.

Ambrose glanced up to him, a faint smile appearing. "Yes, Cain, I did. Though I had hoped for a more climactic ending to that cursed thing. Melting it down into nothing with a blowtorch would have given me more satisfaction, to be perfectly honest. That thing is like a trophy of all your suffering. If I were strong enough to bend iron, I'd have broken it to pieces with my own two hands to get that sad look off your face."

Those words had Cain staring down at his lover, not knowing what to say in answer. Finally, his expression softened, as he reached up to touch a pale cheek with the backs of his fingers. "You know... this is definitely one of those times when I want to shut that mouth up with a kiss."

Ambrose laughed softly, his smile turning impish. "Mister Cain -- are you propositioning me in front of my robots?" The advisor leaned in so that he could lace his arms up around Cain's neck, mouth reaching up for that promised kiss as he murmured quietly, "Give me a reason to stay quiet, then, tin man."

* * *

The close of the evening found them back at the palace in Central City. Ambrose had gone straight to the Queen in order to formally introduce Yinn to the court, explaining that he was going to appoint the young man to a position as soon as he thought up one. Everyone that he'd introduced Yinn to had taken kindly to him, which Ambrose had expected. He gave Yinn directions to his lab, and saw to it that the young man was given satisfactory quarters.

Everyone was concerned with Ambrose's early return. They anticipated that it would return to the frightening atmosphere that it had been before he'd left, with Ambrose ready to begin his wedding plans again. Cain feared that maybe they had not been gone long enough. Yet the advisor surprised them all. Once he had settled the matter with Yinn, Ambrose had declared that he was off duty for the remainder of the week. He had not even mentioned anything about the wedding, which gave them all a collective feeling of relief.

He spent the rest of the week exploring the city with Cain, the pair of them content to take their vacation close to home. They'd had enough of travel for the rest of the annual. When they ran out of places to visit in the city, then they spent their time in Ambrose's lab, where Cain kept a watchful eye on the inventor while Ambrose tinkered with devices that sputtered fire. It made the tin man nervous.

Something had been bugging Cain since their reunion. His mind kept turning back to when they had argued/apologized in front of Ambrose's old home. Cain wracked his brain trying to pinpoint what it was which was haunting him about it. Finally, on the last day of their vacation from work, the tin man figured it out. He slid off of his stool beside Ambrose's table, grunting. "Hey. You going to be all right for a bit if I step out for a walk?"

"Well, of course." Ambrose blinked at him from behind a device that enlarged his eyes to the size of apples. "I'm just doing detail work right now. Is something the matter, Cain?"

"No, nothing." He shrugged, grabbing his hat up to place it on his head. "I'll see you in a while. Get your work done, sweetheart."

"Okay.." The inventor blinked after Cain as the tin man stepped out. Then he dismissed it with a shrug and turned back to his task.

* * *

Ambrose had searched through every corner of the palace to try and track down Cain when the tin man had not returned to his laboratory. Hours had passed with no trace of the blond. It was causing the advisor some considerable worry. Where had Wyatt Cain vanished to?

He had inquired with the kitchen staff as to whether or not Cain had been at the dinner which Ambrose himself had missed. They would only tell him that they had seen the blond, but that Cain had also not been present for dinner. Ambrose was left scratching his head in confusion, which was rare for him. Why had Cain visited the kitchens but not gone to dinner?

There was one last place that he hadn't looked, which was the most likely spot. He made his way to the suite that he shared with Cain. By now, Ambrose was starting to work himself into a fit, hands twisting in front of him as he searched the darkened corridors along the way towards their door. Cain should have known better than to make him worry like this. What had Cain been thinking?

Ambrose could see light underneath the door. So this was where the law man had been hiding all this time? The advisor was already thinking up the perfect tirade to unleash upon his lover before he even burst through the door, tone of voice dire, "Wyatt Cain, you--" As he saw the inside of their suite, Ambrose's perfectly constructed lecture vanished as the advisor's mouth fell open.

There were flowers throughout the suite, standing in vases or simply sitting on the furniture in a colorful spread. The fire was lit, along with a few candles along the mantle, adding to the soft texture of light. It was an unexpectedly romantic scene to enter into. Ambrose, however, was able to dismiss these little touches, as his attention settled on the image that stood out most inside the room.

Cain was sitting in one of the chairs facing the door, his hat absent, blond hair lovely in the light of the candles. His blue eyes were locked on the advisor, something playing through them which Ambrose did not dare to place. He did not even look away from the tin man as he closed the door behind him, eyebrows raising, waiting for the blond to explain.

Awkwardly, Cain began a hesitant speech. "Ambrose. I.. well." He blinked at the advisor.

"Was that it?" Ambrose asked quietly, allowing himself some dry humor in the face of Cain's eloquence. He relented, gesturing around the room. "Who helped you with all of this?"

"DG. It was her idea. Azkadellia and her helped set everything up. I don't know the first thing about this romantic sort of stuff." Cain explained with a shrug.

"I was going to say.. This is a bit beyond your grasp." Ambrose pointed out, as he stepped over in front of the law man's chair, picking up a small gathering of roses which had been placed on their coffee table. "Girls are usually better at setting this kind of scene. I suspect it's the influence of romance novels. Though that doesn't solve the mystery of why you allowed the princesses to decorate our suite as if it were some chambermaid's dream come true."

"Look, it.." Cain stopped. Then he tried again. "Ambrose, I wanted to.." That line of words also halted to a stop.

Ambrose smirked over to the blond, inhaling the scent of the roses. "Glitching, Cain? Need me to smack you out of it?"

The blond firmly shook his head, as that teasing gave him the courage to just get it out. Cain drew in a deep breath to steady his nerves, before charging forward in his awkward fashion. "I am not a romantic guy. Never have been. This kind of stuff seems like a bunch of silliness to me. But this is the kind of atmosphere that these things are supposed to be done in. I..." He trailed off, then reached over to snatch one of Ambrose's hands, tugging the advisor down. "Could you sit down or something? You're intimidating the hell out of me."

With a shrug, the advisor sat himself on the edge of the coffee table without removing his hand from Cain's. Ambrose studied him, confused on just about everything which had happened since he had stepped into his suite and into this surreal sub-reality with a blushing Cain and his flowers. "Okay. I'm sitting. You were saying?"

Cain found that it was easier to focus on the hand in his grip, rather than Ambrose's amused face. Ironically, the blond found his attention drawn to the band of silver on his ring finger. He spoke gruffly. "My marriage was the most important thing in my life. It still is important to me, and it always will be. When I married Adora, I promised that it was going to be forever. I am not the kind of man to break my promises. I will never marry again."

His eyes finally crept their way up to Ambrose's face, blue locking with brown. "I will never get married again, but.. I just wanted to say that I would be honored if you would spend the rest of your days with me, Ambrose Andersen."

"Cain..." The advisor whispered, shock coloring his face. Ambrose intently examined the blond, letting the man's words run through his mind. He slowly smiled, sweet and warm, towards his lover.

Then Ambrose promptly smacked Cain over the head with his cluster of flowers, snapping. "That's for making me nearly worry myself to an early grave!"

"Ouch! Damnit! What did you go and hit me for, you crazy headcase?!" Cain rubbed ruefully at his head, yanking the flowers out of Ambrose's hands before the man could become more creative with how he used them for abuse.

"Crazy?! Are you trying to imply that it's insanity for me to worry about you?!"

"Why bother worrying if you're just going to waltz in here and hit me?!"

"Oh, you want me to hit you, do you?! Fine!"

The sounds of crashing was audible through the door where DG and Azkadellia stood listening. They backed off with a wince, as DG drawled sheepishly to her sister. "Well. We were probably hoping for too much by expecting sweet words and sappy endearments. But I guess this is more perfectly suited to them. It looks like they're going to live dysfunctionally ever after."

-Fin-


End file.
